Asylum
by quackers102
Summary: AU 7th book. As Voldemort continues to grow closer to winning the war, Hermione is captured. Tortured, violated, and abused, she is on the brink of insanity. Unfortunately for him, Draco's job is to feed the prisoners, including Hermione. Draco/Hermione
1. Prologue

**A/N: So, I'm taking a shot at a Draco/Hermione fanfiction. I've been reading a lot lately and was compelled to right this fic, so here it is. I'll continue if people like it, if not, I'll just take it down, so…I hope you all like it!**

**Disclaimer: I'm not J.K. Rowling, so I don't own it.**

**Asylum**

_Prologue_

Darkness. Devastation. Destruction. Death. Had there ever been light? Did such a thing as happiness exist?

Muggles and muggle-borns were dirt. Nothing. Scum. They deserved to live the life of slavery they were living. They deserved to live in the filth and mud, to sweat and cry and bleed working for the Dark Lord against their will. They deserved to be used as whores every night whenever one of Voldemort's followers felt like it. They deserved to feel pain. They deserved to work around the dead bodies of their fellow slaves as each one fell. They deserved to die.

Slaves was what they all were, born into it, working pointlessly in a pit and guarded by Dementors that constantly sucked away every hopeful and joyful thought they had until they were driven mad.

Hermione was on the brink of death when she was taken out of the muggle killing camps. Apparently Voldemort had learned of her capture and not been too thrilled with the fact no one had told him of her imprisonment. He demanded she be brought to Azkaban, which was now under his control, for interrogation and torture.

Pain was all Hermione knew. It clouded her vision until there were no more rational thoughts, until she couldn't remember a Harry Potter, a Ron Weasley, a Hogwarts…until she couldn't even remember her own name.

**:::**

Draco was having mixed feelings.

His primary duty in being a Death Eater was feeding the prisoners. This in and of itself was an slur on the Malfoy name. It was a fool's job. It was his retribution for failing to kill Dumbledore, and he hated the dishonor of it, the other Death Eaters jeering at him as he walked around Azkaban taking trays to prisoners.

And yet, he was relieved the job was his. He hated death. The look of it, the sound of it, the smell of it. It was something he simply could not handle. He had proved it when he was unable to say two words to end the life of Albus Dumbledore. He had been a coward, and his entire family was being punished and ridiculed for it. But he hated death more than anything. Death was not something he enjoyed, like the other Death Eaters, especially his aunt. Bellatrix seemed to take pleasure in it, and he couldn't understand how she tortured or took life so easily without it haunting her.

The prisoners that were Draco's job to feed always disregarded him, or shrank against the wall in fear of him. They were all terrified of him, and it wasn't as comforting as he knew it was supposed to be. He had used to love watching first years squirm at the sight of him, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, but this was not the kind of fear he enjoyed. This was pure terror. Fear of death. Fear that most people had now, now that Dumbledore was dead and Harry Potter was no longer a source of hope, of faith, only a once famous name that had been reduced to nothing by his lack of apparent action, now that the Dark Lord was so close to victory. With a sigh, he opened the last door, one that had been recently added to his rounds.

There, on the floor in the far corner, lay a girl with wildly untamed hair. She was quivering tremendously, her clothes were reduced to mere torn rags, and as she looked up at him her brown eyes showed no recognition or recollection, only horror as she shrank against the wall with a terrified whimper.

It was Hermione Granger.

**A/N: Review! Like it, hate it? I know it's short, but it's just the prologue :)**


	2. Lost Hope

**A/N: Here's Chapter 1! A special thanks to my two reviewers, AnimalLover247 and Lanie, thanks a lot! If I get one more review I'll have more reviews in the Prologue and Chapter 1 of this story than all 6 of the chapters in my first story, so yay! That'd be pretty great :)**

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own it.**

**Asylum**

_Chapter 1: Lost Hope_

To say that Draco was shocked would be an understatement. Sure, he had heard rumors of her capture from the other Death Eaters, but he had never believed them to be true. He had assumed Potter would never let her be captured, or that Granger would put up such a spectacular struggle that her captors would decide to give up rather than be hexed into oblivion. And yet here she was, looking like she had seen her fair share of torture.

For some reason, he wanted her to bite some snarky remark at him. He wanted her to ask what he was looking at, to call him ferret, to scream at him that it was his fault. It _was_ his fault, really. If Dumbledore had been alive, he could have prevented this. He just wanted her to show that she was Hermione Granger.

This…this person was not Hermione Granger.

Her eyes didn't shine with the normal fire, she was disgustingly thin, her cheeks were shrunken, and her skin looked oddly stretched across her face. She had a gray, sickly tint and all traces of Gryffindor bravery was gone as she recoiled, apparently unaware of whom he was. Bruises were scattered across her skin like some sort of sick decoration. The fact that she was alive must mean that she had not divulged and information under torture, and he felt an odd surge of admiration.

The prisoners were not supposed to be tortured to insanity so they didn't forget important information, but it looked as if someone had gone a bit too far with her. She kept pushing herself farther and farther back into the corner, her bare, calloused feet scraping the floor fruitlessly. She raised her arms over her head as if trying to defend herself, but her arms were shaking so badly Draco doubted they would have been able to even grasp on to something. Her eyes were on him, wide with fear, and she would not stop whimpering helplessly.

This was not Hermione Granger.

Draco stepped inside, feeling as if his insides had done several flips. He kept his eyes on Hermione, partially because he was afraid this was an act and soon she would leap on him and attack him for vengeance. Part of him wanted her to.

But as he grew closer, Hermione only cried out more, her eyes only growing wider as if she truly believed he was there for the sole purpose of hurting her. She turned her side into the corner of the cell and finally squeezed her eyes shut, her whimpering growing fainter as if she was preparing herself for the inevitable pain. Draco, his heart thumping so loudly in his chest, set down the tray of food and straightened, frozen in place, staring at the girl that had punched him, at the girl that had constantly snapped at him, at the girl he had hated, at the girl that had hated him.

This reminder of his school years was oddly comforting. It seemed impossible that there had once been a time where his biggest worry had been what new slur to procure and say to Potter, when there was no War, when the sky was bright blue instead of a constant, grey mist due to the Dementors. But Granger wasn't exactly being a good reminder, because this was _not_ Hermione Granger.

"Granger?" Draco asked, hoping for some sort of response. At the sound of his voice her eyes shot open and she cried out louder, trying to push herself farther in the corner and looking as if she was trying to melt through the wall to get away from him. "It's me, it's Draco Malfoy." She showed no sign of recognition, but a slight babble began to issue from her mouth.

"Please…please, no, I did nothing…I know nothing…don't…stop…_please_…"

_Thump thump, thump thump, thump thump_.

Draco was sure his heart would beat out of his chest, it was beating so quickly and loudly. He felt panicked; because this person was not Hermione Granger. Now he was sure. Hermione Granger didn't beg. Hermione Granger didn't whimper. This was some…some Boggart to remind him of the thing he feared most: that things would never be normal again. That all hope was lost.

He backed out of the cell so hurriedly that he bumped into the door, turned, threw it open and slammed it shut behind him. He locked it quickly with a wave of his wand, then rested his back against the shut door and sank to the ground, placing his head in his shaking hands.

His fault…it was all his fault.

It was his fault that Hermione Granger had broken.

A few moments passed, and Draco finally released his head from his hands. With a sort of numb shock, he realized his hands were wet. He wiped away the tears hurriedly, before someone might see him, and stood, just as he heard footsteps coming down the hall. He straightened immediately as Rookwood passed him and roughly shoved him out of the way. "Step aside, Malfoy. Time for the real work." And with that, Rookwood whipped out his wand, unlocked the door to Hermione's cell, and stepped inside with a sadistic grin at Hermione's obvious fear. "Ready to talk now, Sunshine?"

Hermione's screams haunted Draco's dreams all night.

**:::**

"Mum?" Draco tenderly questioned, trying to sound nonchalant and uncaring as he pushed his eggs with his fork the next morning. The sight of Hermione and the sound of her tortured cries of anguish had given Draco nightmares all night, until he woke, sweating feverishly at three in the morning, and had refused to go back to sleep. He told himself that he didn't care about her specifically, but that the reminder of Hogwarts so obviously distorted was torturing him. The reminder that the old world no longer existed hurt him, but, as a Death Eater, it was not supposed to.

"Yes, dear?" Narcissa Malfoy asked, her tone cool and politely inquiring. Lucius, Draco's father, most often spent nights in Azkaban, which served as the headquarters for the Death Eaters. Draco, however, chose to return home and spend nights and mornings with his mother, which he was sure she appreciated. He did not think Narcissa liked being home alone, but he also knew that she did not have what it took to be a Death Eater. She, like him, hated death.

"Can…can insanity be cured?" He kept his eyes on the eggs the house elves had prepared, but he felt his mother's piercing blue gaze on him nonetheless. He was now, at the age of 19, skilled at Occlumency, as Snape and Bellatrix had both taught him, but he still sometimes felt that his mother could read his mind. He felt the chink of cutlery on china as Narcissa placed down her fork, and felt rather than saw her leaning curiously forward in her seat.

"And why would you ask that, dear?"

"Just…just curious." Draco refused to look up, for there Narcissa would find the answer in his eyes, as all mothers could.

"It's someone from school, isn't it. They're in Azkaban." Narcissa did not ask. Narcissa knew.

"Well…yes." Mrs. Malfoy's calculating eyes surveyed Draco for a long moment. "I don't care about them…I'm just…just curious, is all." Draco lied. In the horrible pit of his stomach, where he felt all his betraying emotions, his stomach squirmed at the sight of Granger dying. He had wished death on her once, in second year, had told Crabbe and Goyle that he hoped the basilisk would kill her, but he had never meant it. Death had never been so real then. It seemed if Hermione Granger died she would simply just vanish from his world; a nuisance gone. But now, if she died, he knew she was gone forever. And he hated the sight of her, tortured, and he hated the fact that she could not remember who he was.

"Were they a friend of yours?"

"No." This time he replied truthfully.

"Well…Draco, I do not believe that insanity is a condition, but rather a state of mind." Narcissa began slowly, as if choosing her words carefully. "If the conditions this person is in continue to remain constant, then perhaps they will never return from insanity. But if they have…say, a reminder from their past, then they might slowly begin to remember."

Draco nodded, drinking in every word his mother was saying. His head was spinning with the feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach, but he wanted to help Granger, he had to. Because, deep inside himself, Draco wanted Voldemort to lose the War. He hated this new world that the Dark Lord was concocting. He hated the world without sun or happiness. He hated the world filled with death. And if the way he could contribute to the sun coming back was by helping Granger return to the right state of mind, then he would do it.

He was going to make Hermione sane again.


	3. Fixing the Mistakes

**A/N: Here's Chapter 2! I expected to get this out sooner, but my darn brother hogged the computer all week! He got some new game that he's been obsessed with, and it's been quite annoying for those of us who'd like to use the computer eventually. I stole the computer with the excuse of 'doing homework', which I really should be doing. Entire essay due tomorrow, yuck! Anyway, enough of my complaining. I don't like this chapter too much, but filler chapters always seem to find their way into stories eventually. Sorry! I hope you guys still review!**

**A special thanks to: Mrs. Rose Malfoy, Treacherous Darkness, dizzydazzle, and AnimalLover247 for reviewing! Also, thanks to those of you who added this story to your updates and favorites! It means a lot!**

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I still don't own it.**

Chapter 2: Fixing the Mistakes

"Will you take a walk around the garden with me, Draco?" Narcissa requested as the house elves hurriedly took away their plates and bustled their way back to the kitchens. Draco pushed his chair back and stood, nodded his head, and followed his mother out the door.

Narcissa Malfoy's garden had once been the talk of all the towns around the Manor. A rainbow of colors had once showered an entire (rather large) side of the house. Vines had grown up the wall and beautiful mixtures of every color possible had covered it. It had been a truly beautiful sight, once. The house elves had made sure it was, using magic to make it the most wonderful garden in the world, because, of course, only the best was acceptable for the Malfoys.

But once Voldemort had started to edge towards victory, and the Dementors had had such an increase in population that there was a permanent fog, the garden had died. The house elves had attempted to revive it, but the conditions were no longer suitable for such a garden, even one made by magic. And now, every day, Narcissa would take a walk around the house and stare at what was once beautiful. Draco figured she thought it was a sort of symbol of their life; once beautiful, now dreary and dead, and that she thought that the day there was a sprout in her garden would be the day hope would return.

They finally arrived at the edge of the house and Draco surveyed the dead garden. It was black and looked as if the entire side of the house had been charred. The soil looked lifeless and empty. It was hideous. Not a speck of green. Not a hint of life.

Draco turned to his mother, whose eyes were looking straight at the garden, somewhat forlornly. "I'm going to Azkaban, Mother. Good day." She didn't respond, but kept her blues eyes fixed on her dead garden.

**:::**

Draco returned to Azkaban with a new purpose. He felt rejuvenated, like a new man, ready to spring into action. He was going to do something right this time. He was going to fix every mistake he had ever made.

Prisoners were supposed to be fed only once a day, but this simply would not do for Hermione. He was going to start by making her a bit healthier; to try and give her skin the old color it used to have. So, with his pockets filled with biscuits, he trudged to Hermione's cell, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. Due either to sheer luck or the earliness of the morning, he met no one along the way, and he opened the door labeled '1634' and quietly slipped inside.

Hermione was tucked away into the corner, apparently sleeping. He smiled slightly. She looked almost like her old self as she slept. So…carefree of her own troubles. Her chest rose and fell evenly, and her face looked calmer, with her mouth slightly open. Without thinking, Draco reached down and brushed a few stray curls out of her face. The moment he realized what he was doing, he jerked upwards and shook his head firmly. No. He couldn't do that. He couldn't get attached; not when she could easily die tomorrow. Draco placed down the biscuits in the center of the floor, and soundlessly exited.

As he did on a normal day, Draco nicked a Daily Prophet from the table in the meeting room. Only a few Death Eaters were in there, so he picked a seat against the wall, away from the long wooden table in the center of the room, and relaxed into it. Voldemort was hardly ever at Azkaban; most of the time he was gone either trying to get to Potter or doing some secret mission or killing people who were making foolish attempts to stop him from gaining power. Draco was glad he was hardly there, because then it was easier to block his thoughts from the other Death Eaters. The task of blocking his mind from Voldemort was near impossible, but Snape and Bellatrix had taught him well, and he was sure the Dark Lord knew nothing of his fleeting hopes for him to lose the War. If he did know this, Draco would be dead.

The former Slytherin flipped the Prophet over and almost gasped aloud, for Hermione's name was in giant, bold letters over the top of the page and a giant picture of her grinning, the _real_ her, filled most of the front page.

_**The Search For Hermione Granger Continues, But Leads to Nothing**_

_A few months ago, Hermione Granger, 19 year old Muggle-born and friend of Harry Potter, was reported missing. Aurors and many volunteers have been tirelessly searching for any sign of her whereabouts, but have turned up nothing. She is suspected to be held in a prison, possibly Azkaban, being questioned for the whereabouts of Harry Potter. However, Azkaban has proved impossible to breach, and the Ministry is no longer taking chances at losing some of its best Aurors. _

_"We're doing the best we can," An Auror by the name of Dawlish said as he hurriedly tried to leave the Ministry, "for the sake of Hermione and her friends, but we're turning up nothing. The Ministry's been hectic and morale is low. We have our best Aurors on the job, and we just really hope she's alright."_

_Harry Potter was unavailable for questioning on how he's taking the sudden blow at losing his best friend. Sources say, however, that the Boy-Who-Lived has fallen into a sudden depression as of late. But why should he not? His best friends are now targets. His life is spiraling out of his control, and everyone is looking to him for guidance, but he is doing nothing as innocent people are captured and killed each day…_

Draco put down the paper in disgust, refusing to read on. Breaches on Azkaban? They hadn't had an attack in months, long before Hermione had supposedly been captured. He suspected the Ministry was trying to sound like they were doing their best, for the sake of the public and for Potter.

"Hear about this, Draco?" Marler, a Snatcher about the age of Draco, asked as he propped the Prophet up on the table. "Breaches on Azkaban? Ha, breaches my ass. They must be trying to keep Potter happy."

Draco grunted a response, pretending to rifle through the rest of the Prophet. Normally, he got on well with Marler, but right now he felt a bit sick. "What do you know of Granger's capture, Marler?" Marler, an eager mousy haired boy, had a way of linking his way to the other Death Eaters to get gossip. He was often a vital source for Draco when he wasn't told what the other Death Eaters knew, due to their dislike of him.

"Hmm, a lot of stuff. For one, she was captured in her Muggle parents' homes, and they were murdered before she was caught. Two, she was offered up as bait for Potter; they get the Mudblood back and we get Potter. Apparently, the Ministry kept a close eye on Potter after that, 'cause he was all eager to turn himself in for her, but they refused to let him do it. So then the Dark Lord started torturing her for information, stuff like that. But I hear she's a bit too far off and hardly remembers anything. Now, I hear from a reliable source the Dark Lord is gonna fake her death so that Potter loses a bit more morale, but keep her alive and keep trying to get information from her. He's got some Death Eaters trying to get a good batch of Veritaserum right now. No one can cook it up, you know, since Snape's gone and all."

It was as much as Draco had expected. He had been a little caught off guard that her parents had been murdered, but got over it quickly. After all, they didn't concern him. He had never known them. And besides, they were just Muggles. Stopping for a moment, Draco had to remind himself Hermione was Muggle-born. A long time ago he had stopped caring about foolish prejudices, however. Muggles and wizards all bled the same way. They all screamed the same way. They all died the same way.

"Thanks, Marler," Draco muttered, throwing the Prophet on the table and rising. He walked the long trek to Hermione's cell, lost in thought, and opened it gently, slipping in. The sight of her was enthralling him. Something that had existed in his Hogwarts days was simply too good to be true. It filled him with a sense of false hope; it made him feel like such things that had existed during the days when normalcy was real could only mean that things _could _return to normal. Draco wanted to catch Hermione before she woke up, so he could see her looking as peaceful as she had when he had seen her earlier. However, his spirits fell when he saw that she was no longer asleep. Granger was in the middle of her room, stuffing the biscuits one by one into her mouth as if she hadn't eaten in years. Her eyes were ravenously transfixed to the food, and at first she didn't acknowledge him. But when the door slammed shut, her large eyes shot up, and instantly she let out a shocked scream and shrank against the far wall.

"You don't have to be scared." Draco muttered, shuffling forward awkwardly and seating himself a bit disgustedly on the slimy ground. "Here." He grabbed one of the remaining biscuits and held it out to her. She did not move. Her eyes travelled from the biscuit, up to his face, and back to the biscuit. She seemed to decide the risk wasn't worth it, because she only began to crawl farther backwards away from him, her mouth closing and opening in silent screams.

"Fine," Draco muttered, placing the biscuit back on the ground, but closer to her. "Listen, I want to help. You may not remember, but you know me from school. I'm Draco Malfoy. We met first year, and I hated you, remember? And you were a bit of a know-it-all, and at first, I don't think you had too many friends. But then, for some strange reason, you decided to become best friends with Potter and Weasley…"

It took Draco a full thirty minutes to describe their first year in detail. He added much of the experiences he had had in first year, and even described Hogwarts in an intense amount of detail, and every single teacher that she had once so devotedly worshipped. She never acted as if she registered anything he was saying, much to his increasing annoyance. She only sat in the corner, her side facing him, her head pressed against the wall, trembling as if he was going to strike out at her. He ignored her, and kept going on with his tale. He was just pondering whether or not he should progress to their second year, when the door swung open.

"Malfoy, what are you doing?" Amycus Carrow, his frame taking up most of the door, stood glowering at him. Draco suddenly realized how horrible it must look; he sitting in the middle of the floor with a pile of biscuits facing Hermione Granger, who was cowering in the corner. The moment Carrow had entered the room, she had let out a horrible scream of terror, one that sent much more tingles down Draco's spine than the scream she had uttered when he had entered.

Draco quickly swept the biscuits up into his pockets, praying that he had not seen them them. "Nothing," he muttered, and before he could receive further questioning, squeezed by Carrow and hurried down the hallway, trying to get away from Hermione's screams as fast as possible. He checked his watch to occupy himself; it was only 10.

A normal day for Draco was actually not that eventful. Every now and then, he was asked to do a task that would normally be set for an actual Death Eater, and there was the occasional battle or attack, but on ordinary days he simply walked around Azkaban and did the favors for someone. His father sometimes took him on Muggle killing expeditions, but lately he felt that his father had sensed his disgust at it. It actually kind of frightened him. He wasn't sure if his father would turn him into Voldemort or not. Sons should be able to trust their fathers, but Draco wasn't entirely sure if he could.

"Draco!" Draco turned at the sound of his name, and his stomach did a sort of backflip as Bellatrix began walking towards him from a room. This never boded well. "A meeting is about to begin. Come on."

After years of practice, Draco was able to tame his face not to show his fear. Meetings either meant he was about to be dragged to a fun game of 'Let's Kill the Muggles', or to a battle. He gave a simple nod, and followed Bellatrix to the meeting room he had read the Prophet in. The Death Eaters were all gathered at the table, and Bellatrix purposefully strut to the head of the table. Draco took his seat next to his father after giving a respectful bow to the other Death Eaters present, his mind completely blank.

After a few moments of tense silence, Bellatrix pulled out her wand and twirled it in her hand, then began to speak. "The Dark Lord has entrusted me to pass on a message to you." Bellatrix began, pausing as if to let them all drink in the fact that she had been trusted with such an important task. "I have recently been given information that some of you have been having your personal fun with some of the female prisoners in the night." Mind blank, blank mind, Draco. Don't betray your disgust. "I'm afraid that, even though I'm sure it's quite fun and games, some of it must stop. It would be nice if our prisoners that have valuable information would _remember _their information. If any of you catch one doing this, report to me immediately, and that person will be dealt with." Bellatrix turned, her black eyes staring straight into Draco's, and she gave a delighted cackle as if the prospect of causing someone pain was simply too wonderful to bare.


	4. Make It Go Away

**A/N: I am soooo sorry for the lack of update! I've been missing a lot of school lately due to sports, and it's been a pain to catch up and very stressful. Hopefully the next update will come out sooner! Sorry, guys!**

**Thanks for reviewing: alosercanwin, Treacherous Darkness, and dizzydazzle! Thanks, guys! Your reviews keep me going!**

**Disclaimer: I have not recently bought Harry Potter, so I don't own it.**

**Warning: There are mentions of rape. I kept it PG-13 with as little details as possible and never outright said it was rape, but it's there.**

Chapter 3: Make It Go Away

Draco couldn't sleep that night. He kept picturing a faceless man entering Hermione's cell and doing things that even he shuddered to think about. Yes, he was a teenage boy…but defenseless prisoners? It was repulsive. Even _he_ thought it was nauseating.

After a long few minutes where Draco quarreled with himself, he rose from his bed and threw off his covers. He dressed quickly and quietly and walked slowly down the many winding hallways, finally coming to the front door and exiting, drinking in the midnight sky. He trudged through the gates to his manor determinedly, and then turned and Disapparated with a _pop_, his destination set firmly in his mind.

Once safely in Azkaban after passing through the guards, Draco marched up the many staircases to the floor Hermione's cell was on, his shoulders back and a furiously intimidating look on his face. He was being foolish, he assured himself. He would not catch anyone. They would not do it right after the Dark Lord's warnings. But, he reasoned with himself, here in the night he could tell Hermione about their second year at Hogwarts without being interrupted. He doubted Voldemort had placed guards around her cell, because if he had, they would have been told. And even if there _were_ guards, he would just say that he was coming on orders to check and see if she's had no more midnight visitors.

At last, Draco arrived at Hermione's room. Azkaban was no longer guarded by Dementors; Voldemort allowed them to fly around and wreak havoc in the actual world so that no one had foolish thoughts of happiness. Only a few guarded the entrance, which Draco hated. He had never liked the Dementors. With a casual wave of his wand, the door to Hermione's cell swung open, and Draco's mouth fell open.

It was the most sordid thing he had ever seen.

Hermione, naked, was cowering in the corner while a man Draco suspected to be a Snatcher stood over her, cackling, his eyes set intently upon his prey.

Without thinking twice, Draco sent the man crashing into the opposite wall with his wand. The man let out a slight _oof_ of surprise, and got up from the ground shakily to stare at Draco in confusion. Draco, shaking with rage, flung him against the opposite wall and took two long strides to reach the man, pressing his wand tightly against the man's throat. "What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing?!" He screamed, his wand hand trembling, trying to sound as if the scene in front of him was not the most bothering thing he had ever had the misfortune to witness.

The man, whether out of fear or because he was remotely intelligent, said nothing. Draco, his mind screaming _he must die! He must die!_, released his wand from the man's throat and pressed it against his Dark Mark. The man howled in fear, but it was too late.

A few tediously long moments passed. Draco tried not to show his dissapointment over the fact that nothing was happening. The minutes ticked away, and the only sound in the room that could be heard were Hermione's tortured whimperings, which only made Draco's insides squirm with ten times more anger. As he stared into the ugly face of Hermione's torturer, he felt that he had never known such hate as this. He held Potter above this filth. He would rather this man die now than the Dark Lord.

And finally, at long last, Bellatrix materialized out of thin air inside the cell. Draco was a bit taken aback by her sudden arrival, and that it was Bellatrix instead of Voldemort, but he wasn't complaining. He had also thought no one could Apparate inside Azkaban, but Voldemort must have sent her and somehow given her the power to do this task.

"Yes, Draco? The Dark Lord told me you called. I have come in his stead." Bellatrix sneered, tapping her long wand against the palm of her hand, her dark lidded eyes surveying the scene in front of him. Draco did not expect any sort of disgust to shine in his aunt's eyes, and she didn't disappoint. This horribly revolting act did not seem to phase her in the slightest; Draco figured she had seen worse horrors, and even _enjoyed _them and caused them. At last, Bellatrix's eyes rested on the Snatcher. "So you've caught the man? Well done, Draco. The Dark Lord will be proud." Bellatrix hissed, her eyes shining at the prospect that she got the priveledge to enforce some torture upon another soul.

For the first time in his life, the look of death did not bother Draco.

**::**

"I thank you, Draco," Voldemort said softly, looking Draco up and down. Blank mind, mind blank, "for taking it upon yourself to catch the culprit. A bit of redemption never hurts, does it?" Draco shook his head, trying not to show his outright terror, even though he knew Voldemort would probably enjoy it. The Dark Lord had arrived an hour after Bellatrix had ended the life of the Snatcher. "Yes, yes, I believe it is in order. Would you like to do a favor for me? Voldemort rewards those who assist him. I knew my most valuable Death Eater would find the culprit for me…but I admit, I did not believe it would be you."

"Yes sir," Draco obediently responded. It wasn't like he had much of a choice. Normally, this would have elated him. A chance to redeem himself! But now, the memory of Hermione whimpering in fear, lying naked on the ground, was making him a bit sick. He wanted nothing more than to lie down, and perhaps vomit.

"Her 'death' is set," Voldemort said, flicking his wand in the general direction of Hermione's cell. "I would like you to go to the funeral for me, and see if our dear friend Mr. Potter goes. I want you to take in their reactions, view how much security he has, and see if they believe her to be truly dead. We must know if they believe it."

Draco felt that this was a mission he would normally have anyway, but he said nothing, because doing so would be rewarded with instant death. "Yes, my Lord. When?"

"One of my informants tells me it is at noon, tomorrow."

"You already made them believe she's dead?" Draco blurted out, and instantly regretted it, fear striking his heart and flitting across his face. He could actually feel his own face grow even more pale, and the room suddenly seemed much colder. "Er, I mean-"

"Yes, I have. Did you not catch the Prophet today?" And with a characteristically evil grin, Voldemort said, "goodbye, Draco. I expect a full report tomorrow."

Draco bowed deeply. After Voldemort had disappeared, and Draco was sure he wouldn't suddenly appear back in front of him (which would most likely make him drop dead of a heart attack), he sprinted as fast as he could to the meeting room. Draco grabbed the edge of a wastebasket and dumped it over, rifling through the contents in a frenzied search, finally coming upon his much needed confirmation: the Daily Prophet. The headline did nothing to make his already sick stomach any better.

_**HERMIONE GRANGER DEAD**_

_It is to our great regret that we must announce the search for Hermione Granger, 19, has come to an end. Her broken wand was deliberately placed in an area Aurors were searching, and not too far away was her body. _

Vaguely, Draco wondered if a Death Eater had used Polyjuice Potion to disguise what was most likely a normal Muggle. But that would only last an hour, so he figured it must be some type of complex spell or potion.

_Hermione Granger was a talented young witch who was the best in her year while she attended Hogwarts. She was captured in her parents' home, where Death Eaters mercilessly killed Mrs. and Mr. Granger and took the teenage witch. They then tried to ransom Hermione for Harry Potter, but the Ministry would not have it. They believed that Harry Potter was far too valuable. That, sadly, has resulted in the death of a young girl, whom was Potter's best friend._

_The funeral service will be held in a cemetery outside her parents' home…_

Draco set down the Prophet, but then, thinking twice, picked it back up. He walked all the way back to Hermione's cell, and entered slowly. Hermione still lay in the corner, her rags of clothes lain over herself (Draco had a sickening feeling of relief that she still had enough sense to feel the need to cover herself), but she didn't look as frightened when he came in. Or maybe it was just his imagination.

"Hey," Draco mumbled. "I…I just thought I'd read this to you…" And he opened the Prophet to the front page and began to read. As he read the article about her death, Draco watched Hermione. At first, she refused to look at him. She would tremble in the corner, her cheek pressed against the wall, her arms wrapped tightly around her rags, but as he read, she slowly would steal glances at him when she suspected he wasn't looking.

After he read the Prophet, feeling quite foolish, Draco decided to go into great detail about their second year at Hogwarts. He skipped over the part of him calling her a Mudblood; she didn't need to remember that. And, once he had finished telling about Hermione about the basilisk (his father had told him what the beast was inside the Chamber a few years ago), he decided to just go ahead and tell her about their third year. After all, this was an oppertunity, wasn't it?

After he was done telling about how Potter had come back from the Third Task screaming that the Dark Lord had returned, he looked back at her. She quickly looked away, from where she had been staring at him. "I'm going to your funeral tomorrow, you know." He muttered, staring at his hands in his lap. "I'll…I'll tell you about it."

Draco stood and shut the door behind him, but instead of leaving, he sat in front of the door with his wand out and made sure no one else was going to touch Hermione tonight.

**:::**

It was cold at the funeral. A light drizzle had picked up, and the wind was blowing hard. Draco wrapped his cloak around him tighter, standing towards the middle of the crowd. He had taken a potion previously that had turned his hair black and his eyes brown and given him a beard. He was quite sure he would not be recognized, and it wasn't hard to blend into the vast crowd.

At least a few thousand people had turned up for Hermione's funeral. Draco was feeling oddly guilty. A white, ornately decorated casket sat on a raised platform with white curtains around it. Draco was the only one that knew it contained some random Muggle, and he despised the feeling.

He spotted Potter and the Weasleys without much difficulty. They were standing in the front row, and Aurors were stationed around them in every possible way. Even if Voldemort had wanted to use this moment to off Potter, Draco wasn't sure if he would have been able to succeed. The protection that was being given to Potter was so obviously extravagant, that the Ministry had to have put it together. He surveyed the group out of the corner of his eye. Potter was staring fixedly ahead, his face void of all emotions. He looked…sort of dead, in a way. His eyes were blank, and he was not moving at all.

Ron Weasley, however, was having a harder time of containing his emotions. Tears slipped down his face and he was shaking, and his little sister had buried her head in his arm and was sobbing there. Draco felt an odd stab of…was that pity? No, no, it couldn't be. But he did feel a horrible urge to say _something _to Potter, to drop by and whisper that she was truly alive then disappear, to stop their pain, because she was alive…but only barely, she didn't even remember who they were…if she had seen them, she wouldn't recognize them…

Great bouquets of white and golden flowers were floating over the immense crowd, and Draco stared at them for a few moments to clear his head. He couldn't do anything about it…he was a servant for the Dark Lord…

Unfortunately…

The service began, and Draco ignored the words of the man who was speaking. He kept his eyes trained on Potter…it was one of the hardest things he had ever done, for images of Hermione, imprisoned, trembling, unaware, _insane_, kept bursting into his head, mingling with images of her at school, happy, laughing, such an insufferable know-it-all, and at the Yule Ball…Pansy had not even been able to think of a horrible thing to say to her, and neither had he, because in truth, she had not looked as bad as she_ normally_ did…that had seemed _decades _ago...

It seemed like years before the great crowd finally began to shuffle out at last. Draco joined them, walking behind the people sobbing and feeling so horribly that he was the only one here that knew she was alive, and he didn't even deserve to know. He looked over his shoulder once more, and saw that Potter was now sitting alone in one of the white chairs, his head in his hands, finally allowing himself to break down.

**:::**

It did not take long for the Dark Lord to find him and question him, and Draco had assured him that yes, it was believed, and he had great protection, and it had been one of the most despairing things he had ever seen…The latter, however, he kept to himself...

For a horrible moment as Draco sat alone in his room that night, he thought about what his own funeral would be like. No, he wouldn't even have a funeral. The Death Eaters would dump his deceased body in a pit outside of Azkaban. No one would cry for him. No one would mourn. Perhaps his mother would, if she outlived him, but that would be it. Thousands of people would not come. Flowers would not decorate his beautiful casket. He had done nothing in his life to deserve a great funeral with sobbing people. With sad people. People would celebrate of his death, that Death Eater is finally gone, they would say. No one would care.

No one would care.

**A/N: Poor Draco :( Review!**


	5. Here In Your Arms I'm Safe

**A/N: So, once again, this came out a bit later than I expected. It was just a little over a week, though! I'll try harder to get the next chapter out sooner, and hopefully it won't take longer than a week and a half or two weeks. **

**Thanks to physics chick, DracoMalfoy4Ever, SpiritGirl183, goob21, and lilshorty_653 for reviewing! Seriously, every single one of your reviews makes me smile in happiness! You guys are amazing! Thanks to everyone who added this story to their favorites and alerts as well!**

**Disclaimer: Nothing has changed, so I still don't own Harry Potter.**

Chapter 4

The next night found Draco seated cross-legged in Hermione's cell, the Prophet for that day clutched in his hand. He had been thoroughly pleased when she had not screamed as he entered, and she had even curiously looked up at him a few times. Her fear towards him seemed to be slowly dissipating. "So…I went to your funeral yesterday," Draco began. "I think Rita Skeeter's rendition of it will be better than me telling you about it. Personally, I think it's the best she's ever written. It's actually quite truthful." And so, he began to read.

"_White and golden flowers float above the heartbreakingly despondent crowd of a few thousand, an incredible turnout. Each person that knew Hermione Granger sobs loudly, filling the entire cemetery with cries of loss. Her casket lays on a raised platform, decorated and carved intricately so that it is the most beautiful thing in the entire cemetery. Millions of flowers lay around the casket, making a rainbow of colors. Harry Potter sits in the first row, looking like an Inferius; the living dead. His eyes are void of emotion. It is a heartbreaking sight._

_A man stands to talk about how wonderful Hermione Granger was. Yes; she was wonderful. I had the privilege of knowing Ms. Hermione Granger, and she was stubborn to boot. If she wanted something, she would find a way to get it, and she was also incredibly intelligent. _

_Ronald Weasley tries to say a few words, but must sit down after he is unable to speak due to his distress. A few more people stand to speak of how amazing Ms. Granger was, and how brave, and how much of a terrible loss it was, and at last, the ceremony is over._

_People shuffle out of the cemetery quickly, eager to leave the depressing scene. They wipe away their tears, and eventually the cemetery is empty, save one. Harry Potter remains, crouched in his seat, finally allowing himself to break down and cry for the loss of his best friend."_

Draco looked up awkwardly after he had finished. Hermione was not looking at him, but facing the side wall, her cheek pressed up against it. Tears were streaking down her face, and Draco's heart leapt in an odd way, hoping that she had understood everything he had read to her. Did she know? Did she know how sorrowful everyone was over her death? "Well," he said, rising, a bit uncomfortable. He had nothing left to tell her. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

He turned for the door, but stopped in his tracks as a tiny, croaky voice whispered, "D-Don't go." He whirled around so fast it gave him whiplash to face Hermione in shock, and she was staring at him with pleading in her eyes. "Please," she whispered again, and it hardly sounded like herself. In fact, if he had not seen her lips move, he would not have thought it was her that had spoken. Her voice was uncharacteristically hoarse and low. "Don't g-go."

Was she beginning to associate him with good? Did he symbolize safety to her now? Draco shook his head, moving towards her slowly, inch by inch, afraid he might startle her if he moved too quickly. She did not shrink back as she normally did, but continued to stare at him with her large, brown eyes, shining with tears. He continued to move towards her as slow as he could without bursting from the suspense, until finally, he came so near to her that he could've touched her, and sat down on her left side. She emitted a loud, drawn out sob and crawled the rest of the distance separating them, resting her head on his chest and clambered into his lap, her hands clutching the front of his shirt. Shocked at her sudden and unexpected display of trust, he wrapped his arms around her frail shoulders and pulled her closer as she continued to cry against his chest, leaving tiny wet stains on the front of his shirt. "I won't…" he finally managed to whisper. "I'm not going anywhere."

A long time passed of Hermione continuously sobbing into his shirt, and Draco could not force himself to depart. What if he came back the next day and Hermione had forgotten this even happened? No, he wanted to enjoy it...He didn't want to let go...

Draco was not aware that he had fallen asleep, but before he knew it, his eyes had shot open in panic and Hermione was sleeping against his chest, her mouth slightly open and looking quite peaceful. For a moment fear such as he had never known filled him; what if he had been seen? But then, he knew if he had been seen he would not be alive. But still, he felt uneasy. He tried to rise without waking Hermione, but as he moved, she stirred.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she raised her head so that she made eye contact with him. She seemed just as surprised as he was at their position. She didn't move, like he had thought she would, though, and it pleased him. "Do you remember?" Draco whispered. For a long moment, she didn't speak, but continued to stare at him, as if trying to fit the pieces together in her mind of puzzle that had been long left untouched. "I know you can talk to me. Tell me if you remember me."

Hermione stared at his face for a long time, as if trying to reach within herself and draw forth the memories, and then finally whispered, "I remember hating you. But I don't remember why."

"It's ok." Draco said, feeling a bit downcast. He had hoped that suddenly, in their moment, all the memories of their times at Hogwarts and before had come rushing back to her. "It'll come back to you." And he hoped he was right.

After a long pause, Hermione looked down at her feet, then back up to his eyes. Draco was shocked at the layers of undoubtful trust that was swimming in the brown depths. She finally whispered, "I don't hate you anymore."

**:::**

Draco walked down the long gated lane to the Manor. The tall stone walls stretched slightly above him, and unconsciously he reached up and rubbed a hand against the top. Some of the bricks crumbled slightly at his touch, and he stopped, confused. Inspecting the top of the wall, he found that it was, indeed, beginning to collapse.

In all his years at the Manor, the wall had been the one thing that had stood firmly; resolute. It had been his hiding place when his father was in a terrible rage. It had been his safe place; running to take shelter behind the wall. Now, it was crumbling away, decaying. The wall had to be centuries old, so it shouldn't surprise him. But it did.

The wall that had blocked everything out was crumbling down.

"Won't you take a walk around the garden with me, Draco?"

Draco's mother's voice startled him, and he jumped slightly, turning to look at the blonde woman that he was sure had not been there a second before. "Um, of course, Mother."

Narcissa took a few steps forward and she, too, rubbed a hand over the wall, watching as a few pebbles crumbled away. She stared for a long time at the rocks at the base that had fallen, and for some reason, Draco thought she was seeing something other than a decaying wall. Something a bit more symbolic than that. "This wall was always old," Narcissa said softly. She turned to him, and the softness in her eyes melted away. "Come. The garden."

Draco followed behind his mother with his hands in his pockets and looking down at the ground, his thoughts elsewhere on a certain girl lying in a cell that had decided that he was worthy of her trust after so many years of hate, hate that she did not recall.

Draco only joined in on this visits to the garden every now and then to please his mother, because he never expected it to be green again. So, he was quite surprised when his mother grasped his arm moments later and cried out excitedly, "Draco, look!"

Draco did look. And look. And look. There, feebly trying to push its way into life above the soil, was a tiny, miniscule green plant. It looked as if it was having quite a hard time getting out of the soil, but it was fighting. Narcissa bent over and gingerly brushed some of the soil away that was on top of it, and there it was: a tiny plant blooming. Draco felt something inside him burst to life, something he had not experienced in a long time.

Hope.

He shared a grin with his mother, whose blue eyes were dancing in a way he hadn't seen in years. Narcissa looked like she had just been given the most wonderful Christmas present possible. He knew that his mother did not like the war; he could see it in her eyes when both he and his father had to traipse into some battle. And he knew that she knew he didn't like it either. She would never tell, anyway, and it wasn't as if Voldemort was going to hunt her down and penetrate her mind anytime soon. Unless Draco gave him some reason to. The former Slytherin shuddered at the thought. Hopefully _that_ wouldn't be happening anytime soon. Hate for the war was one thing; foolish disrespect was another. Draco knew he was on the winning side, and if he switched, he died. No one betrayed Voldemort and got away with it. Well, except Snape, but Draco wasn't even sure how much longer his former Potions Master would last.

Snape had been found out when he had been caught conversing with Remus Lupin in a back alley by a few Snatchers, no doubt rallying information. Only one of the Snatchers made it out alive, but one was enough. The information was relayed to Voldemort instantly, and Snape vanished even quicker. Voldemort had been outraged when he had learned of his closest ally's betrayal, and had even gone through a brief period where if someone only _slightly _showed thoughts of betrayal, he murdered them. Luckily, at that point, Draco had not been significant enough to even matter if he betrayed someone. Draco was even mildly surprised his father survived that one, but perhaps his tiny inkling of hesitance had passed for simple fear.

"Oh Draco, I do believe this calls for celebration," Narcissa said, abruptly bringing Draco out of his thoughts. He glanced at his mother, and much to his surprise, found tears in her eyes. But no, they were tears of another sort. Not tears of sadness, fear, or anger…but of happiness.

Happiness.

It had been quite a while since Draco had truly felt _happy. _He had begun to forget what the light butterfly-like feeling felt like, what the warmth felt like. Draco felt something tug upwards at the corners of his mouth, and it felt strange, as if this strange thing was supposed to be forced, not natural. He remembered the word for it: a smile.

Had it been that long since he truly smiled? So long that he had begun to forget the name for it? Had it truly been three years since he dared show an emotion as needless as happiness? As elation? Or had it been four years? Had he ever smiled in his sixth year at Hogwarts? He had felt terrified and troubled all year. No, no happiness. It had been four years since he had felt anything relatively close to pure joy. It had been three years since the Wizarding World had slipped into deep darkness, and the rest of the world had suffered such a thing as constant fear. Draco wondered how long it had been for anyone to feel happiness. Dementors swooped in on every happy thought, and they had multiplied so much that they could be counted by the millions by now.

Happiness…it felt…good.

**:::**

Draco felt _elated_. His pocket was stuffed with a bean-like size of what would soon be a large slab of chocolate cake once he transfigured it back to the way it was. Narcissa had called for a large cake and the house-elves had outdone themselves. Draco had not found it difficult to secretly transfigure one into a little bean and stuff it in his pocket to later give to Hermione. He figured she would be quite pleased, and maybe even feel up to a nice chat, which might even bring forth some memories.

So he was having a nice day. Things were looking up. Feeling almost like whistling, Draco swung open the door to Hermione's cell, only to have his heart plummet straight out of his chest and have to force a gasp of shock down.

The cell was empty.

Hermione was gone.

**A/N: Bum bum bummmm! A bit of a cliffhanger! While waiting for the next chapter, take a few seconds and review! **


	6. Revelations

**A/N: In my personal opinion, for being out of town Monday-Wednesday, I got this out pretty fast! In some parts of this chapter its slightly choppy and jumbled, but I meant for it to be that way. It's supposed to portray how Draco feels. Hope it comes out that way!**

**Thanks: goob21, Leanora, numberedheartbeats17, Sols-heart, DracoMalfoy4Ever, alosercanwin, dizzydazzle, Pixlet, malfoyismine2, and Andy for reviewing! Every single one of you guys is amazing, and all of your reviews make me so happy! Thank you so much! The last chapter was my most reviewed chapter, and I have over 20 reviews! That's amazing!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own it!**

Chapter 5: Revelations

Draco did not believe his eyes. Refusing to accept the truth_,_ he took a step into the cell and swept it with his eyes, all the while feeling sick to his stomach. He even walked to each corner in disbelief, as if Hermione would appear suddenly and shout, "Look! I remembered how to make myself invisible!" He even called out, "Hermione?" in his desperation.

His first thought was that they had found out. They had found out he had been visiting her and they were probably on their way up here to kill him, to dispose of him, he needed out, he needed to run, _run_, get out!

Moments before he made a mad dash for the door he began to think properly again. No, they would've come after him first. Maybe…had Hermione run her usefulness? Was she…no, don't think like that. She can't be…

Fuck.

Shouldn't that be a good thing? He didn't have to worry about her anymore, didn't have to have these thoughts of betrayal; he could become a true Death Eater again…

No. He couldn't.

Draco _had _to find out where she was. But how could he find out without looking suspicious? Who could he ask that wasn't a Death Eater, but would actually know where she was?

The answer came to him easily.

Marler.

It took the utmost control not to burst from the cell and sprint down the flights of stairs to find Marler. He tried to look composed and uncaring as he half trotted, half carelessly strolled down the stairs that led to the meeting room. Had the walk always been this long? It had seemed before that it did not take _hours_ to get from Hermione's cell to the meeting room…

Finally, he reached the bottom and had to desperately keep control of himself as he walked towards the large black doors that led to the meeting room. He raised his hand to open the door…

"_Malfoy_!"

What luck! Here was Marler, quickly trotting towards him with an uneasy look on his face from the direction of the entrance. It made Draco want to squirm in anticipation, but instead, he gave a slight nod of his head in greeting. "Yes?"

"They've been looking everywhere for you."

_They _meant Death Eaters.

This was it. This was the part where he was surrounded by Death Eaters and murdered on the spot. This was the part where his fleeting wishes for a better world would be forced out of his mind and he would die a slow, painful death as the Death Eaters watched on, laughing, and Voldemort enjoyed snuffing out his miserably short life. This was the part where his father told him how much of a disappointment he had always been. This was the part where they dumped his body in the ocean. This was the part where _oh shit I don't wanna die fuck please don't let me die-_

"Someone tipped off a Death Eater that Potter's trying to get into Hogwarts through Hogsmeade and Bellatrix is leading an attack. You better hurry; they're all inside about to Apparate. The no-Apparating boundary got broken by the Dark Lord somehow. He truly is powerful."

Draco let out a great whoosh of air that he had been holding in. He lived to die another day, but Hermione…

"Hey, Marler," Draco began, intending to ask where Hermione is, but he was cut off.

"Draco! Come now, we're Apparating! Hurry!" Bellatrix's eager shriek broke into his sentence as the dark-headed woman came bounding out of the meeting room with hordes of Death Eaters behind her. A fleeting look of fear passed through Marler's eyes, and without another glance at Draco, he was gone. "I suspect the Snatcher's filled you in. Come, and hurry, before the Apparating boundary gets put back up again." Bellatrix turned to everyone else. "The Dark Lord wants Potter alive. Everyone else is of no concern." Draco's eyes surveyed the eager looking Death Eaters listening to Bellatrix with respect shining in their eyes.

He did not want to go.

"Kill who you please."

He wanted to stay here. He couldn't kill.

"Ready?"

He wanted to find Hermione.

"Go!"

He wanted to go _home._

But where was home?

**:::**

Complete and utter chaos surrounded Draco as he Apparated straight to Hogsmeade. He had not been here in years, and was certainly glad he had not. This was not Hogsmeade, it was an abandoned town. The stores that had once been so vibrant with displays of the new products in the windows were now run down and abandoned. The snow everywhere no longer had a holiday feeling, but a feeling of total desertion.

Spells were already flying everywhere; Draco had to immediately duck in order to dodge what he suspected was a Cruciatus Curse. Potter had not come to Hogsmeade alone; in fact, there were about as many of Potter's followers as there were Death Eaters here. But the obvious shock in each one of their eyes told that they had not anticipated this surprise attack.

Draco sent a Killing Curse at a man he did not recognize, but it missed. Had he truthfully been aiming to hit?

There were many faces of people Draco knew in this sea of battle. He recognized Luna Lovegood, Longbottom, the majority of the Weasleys, Lavender Brown, Michael Corner, both of the Creevey brothers, Seamus Finnigan, the Patil twins, Dean Thomas, and also a load of Aurors.

Draco felt a kind of detachment as he fired spell after spell at the enemy. Who _was_ the enemy? These people that had been friends of Hermione?

He was afraid.

Fear. Utter fear.

I don't want to die. I want to live.

_Whose side are you on?_

I'm on your side. Don't kill me.

Hermione's alive!

Or is she?

Your side. Yours, yours, yours. I hate them. I want to go. I hate them. I hate war. War is evil. War is not what I thought it would be. War is violence and death and fear. War is not what I was told it would be.

"_You!_" A furious roar broke Draco out of his rain of insane thoughts. He turned to face Ron Weasley, who was looking at him with a face that showed nothing but loathing and rage. His features were etched with obvious torment and pain. He was no longer the freckled, scrawny, red-haired boy from Hogwarts that Draco had tormented. This man had seen pain. This man had suffered torture. This man…had lost someone he loved.

Was it truly _his_ fault? He had caused so much pure anguish? Not the kind of annoyance that comes with a childish insult, but true, horrible, agony?

"I'll kill you!"

Weasley launched himself at Draco, and the blond-haired man had to dodge quite quickly in order to come out of this thing alive. And then Draco understood. Weasley was blaming him for Hermione's death. It wasn't his fault! Or was it? If she was dead now, it was…he could've saved her…Why did he care what Weasley thought? He was the enemy!

_It wasn't my fault!_

Draco barely dodged another spell, too lost in his own thoughts to battle properly. But however much he tried to think straight, he simply couldn't. And there was no way he could attack Weasley. There was no way. The thought of killing Weasley scared Draco. Hermione would hate him. Hermione would never speak to him again. If she was alive.

And, quite simply, he couldn't do it.

Draco sent a Stunning spell that missed Weasley by inches, but his diversion worked, and he vanished into the mass of people already doing battle. It wasn't hard to disappear, and he heard Weasley's roar of rage as he dodged spell after spell trying to get anywhere, to get _out_…

It was a rain of green and red lights that was hard to escape. Every way brought Draco to another miniature battle going on between someone from Hogwarts and a Death Eater. They were too focused on each other to pay much attention to the terrified blonde.

And then he saw it. A glint in the sun, he turned to see what it was…a shock of black hair, and glasses gleaming in the sun, and then the figure was gone, slipping into the shack that was once Honeydukes.

Draco glanced around, seeing that no one else had seen Harry freakin' Potter slip past them all while their hunger for battle controlled them. None of them noticed but him.

And before he knew it, Draco had dashed into Honeydukes after Potter.

"_Expelliarmus!"_

Potter's wand, that he had been holding limp in his hand, sure he had gotten by undetected, went soaring across the room. He was so _foolish _to think he could possibly get by undetected and to actually drop his guard. What was he thinking?

And then as Potter's shockingly green eyes met Malfoy's dull grey ones, he understood.

Potter didn't care.

Defeat shone clearly in the Boy-Who-Lived's eyes. Draco raised his wand in complete and utter triumph. A sudden need for redemption had overwhelmed him, and he felt giddy. He had captured Potter! He, a nobody, a disgrace!

"You Disapparate, Potter, and I won't hesitate to kill you before you can even turn." Malfoy said, feeling a fantastic sense of power. He had done what no one else had…he had caught Harry Potter.

"Just like you killed her?" Potter's voice had no fight in it. It was utterly dead and void of emotion, and it reminded him just what Boy Wonder had gone through.

He did not have to think to figure out who he was talking about.

Potter thought that _he _had killed her?

Draco had the horrible need to vomit. Kill her? Kill Hermione? Never. He probably couldn't even kill Potter if he attempted to Disapparate. But he couldn't let him get away. This was his chance for redemption. This was his chance to do something right.

Wait, was this right?

Was turning Potter, the last hope for peace, to Voldemort, right?

Was it wrong?

He was on the winning side. But why did he feel as if he was losing?

"_I don't hate you anymore."_

Draco's wand slipped clean out of his hand.

Green eyes met grey ones. He could feel Potter's questioning stare, his probing glance, as if waiting for him to bend over and pick up the wand. He didn't even Disapparate. They continued to stare at each other, as if having a silent conversation, as if determining what was going on in the other's minds.

The pair of green eyes found what they were looking for.

Regret.

Turmoil.

Confusion.

Hatred.

But not hatred for him, no, hatred for himself.

_Go, go, go._ Draco commanded, trying to make Potter see with his eyes without having to say it himself. _Go, go, go._ _I can't kill you, I can't let Hermione know I destroyed hope, go. When the time comes, perhaps you will show me the same mercy._

Potter gave a slight nod, and with that, turned and walked into the back of Honeydukes without a backwards glance to even see if Draco would pick up his wand and curse him while his back was turned.

Childlike games of hatred for one another were over. This was real war. And Draco had just lost. Draco had just admitted defeat. But not for Potter, oh no…for the world. For his mother. For…for Hermione.

Perhaps Draco _would _be remembered after he died. Perhaps he would be remembered as the man that let Potter go when he could have ended the war right then and there for Voldemort.

But maybe not. After all, he was still a Death Eater.

The battle did not last much longer after that; the Death Eaters were equally matched and when not one could find Potter they called the retreat. They were dismissed by a furious Bellatrix, who was the unfortunate one that would have to relay the results of the battle to Voldemort: no Potter.

They had suffered few casualties in the small battle; only a few had not returned. No one mourned.

When Draco Malfoy returned home with his father he marched straight up to his room, completely ignoring his mother's relieved calls. He lay on his bed without even taking off his clothes and pressed his face to his soft pillow, clutching it tightly in his arms.

In the loneliness and silence of his own room, in the darkness and despair of utter confusion and of the unknown, Draco was left alone with only his thoughts for company.

And, for the first time in a long time, Draco Malfoy cried.

* * *

**A/N: Tell me what you think!**


	7. Save Me

**A/N: Really quick update this time! I get most of my writing done on the weekends, and had a lot of time this weekend, so I churned this one out pretty fast! While writing this I was listening to "Until We Bleed" by Kleerup ft. Lykke Li. I normally don't listen to this kind of music, but I watched a Draco video with it, and the lyrics actually weirdly fits this story! And the sound of it. You guys should go take a listen to the beatless version, I think it's more eerily beautiful :)**

**Thank you: renesmeecullenisme, goob21, Your Undoing, Heloise, SkellyChest, DracoMalfoy4Ever, and dizzydazzle for reviewing! I know I say it every chapter, but your reviews seriously make me so happy! You guys are so nice, and your compliments encourage me to update even faster. Thank you so much :)**

Chapter 6: Save Me

It took quite a lot of effort to get himself out of bed the next morning. Draco woke with wet cheeks, and shamelessly wiped them away on the back of his hand. He felt somewhat defeated. What was the point of going to Azkaban, anyway? So he could only learn the finality of the fact that Hermione was dead? He didn't know if he could take it. He even didn't see the point of this life anymore. What good was he doing? What was the point of him being here?

_You're a tool, and that's it. You were a tool to get Dumbledore dead, and you did it. Congratulations. You ruined the world._

For a moment he imagined how much he would be hated by the majority of the Wizarding world if he had gotten Potter captured, too. If he had been the reason Dumbledore, the only one that You-Know-Who had feared, had died, _and_ if he also got Potter, the world's last hope for the defeat of the Dark Lord, killed too. He could be one of the most hated Wizards in history. But what did it matter? What was Potter even doing to kill Voldemort? Nothing. Just foolishly traipsing off into Hogsmeade for some memories of the good ole days and not even attempting to fight when he was caught. Voldemort was going to win the war. If Potter could not stop him, and Dumbledore was long since dead, where was the hope? If anything, Draco was intelligent. He had chosen the winning side early on, and now he would live.

Live in hell.

So he got to live? Who cared? He hated this life. Maybe if he had chosen Potter's side first, he'd be dead, but at least he would've lived in a life of happiness for a short while, instead of hate. Maybe he and Hermione could've even become something other than enemies, but now that couldn't happen. Because now she was dead; he was sure of it. And that was just it. He didn't want to die.

Death scared him. The unknown scared him. He didn't want to just stop existing. He didn't want to be wiped off the face of the planet, without any good memories for anyone to remember him by. Draco Malfoy would cease to exist. The Malfoy name would vanish, since he had produced no heirs and he was an only child. His name would never be remembered.

But no, there would probably be _novels _about Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger, telling of their tales to attempt to stop Voldemort, portraying them as wonderfully kind heroes that cared only for the greater good. He would be a side character that when everyone read that he had finally died, they would grin. Great, he's dead, that man that only lived to torment Potter and follow in his father's footsteps and become a Death Eater. That man that got the remarkable Dumbledore killed. That sadistic boy that must have known nothing but hate and a thirst for death. I'm glad he's dead.

They were wrong.

Draco rested his elbows on his knees and held his head in his hands, pulling at fistfuls of his hair.

_I'm sorry. I don't know what to do. I don't know where to turn. Help me._

_Help me._

**:::**

The great gray door swung open, and Draco entered, his head drooping slightly as he surveyed the empty cell before him.

Only, it wasn't empty.

A huddled figure was curled up in the corner, her bushy brown hair falling all around her, sobbing silently to herself.

Draco could've screamed. He could've jumped high up in the air. He could've sunk to his knees. Oh, thank Merlin, she's _alive._

"Hermione," he whispered, reaching out a hand to her even though he was much too far to even reach her. "Hermione."

The girl's head whipped around, and she gasped in shock.

Draco saw what was in her eyes.

Fear.

No recognition.

"No. No, no, no." Tears began to fall freely from Draco's eyes, and he didn't even stop them. What was the fucking point? Why was he even trying? Everything had been lost. All their progress, all his attempts, had been pointless. It was all so pointless. Things didn't _come _to him like they did to Potter. No, he had to get something, lose it, get it back, and completely lose it again. He had _tried _to do something for the greater good, he really had tried, but it wasn't meant to be. He was meant to be a Death Eater. He wasn't supposed to try to do something good, because it only ended up tearing him to pieces and making him a wreck.

"No…" Draco's knees gave out and he sunk to the ground, his shoulders shaking from his tears that would not stop. "Hermione, it's me. It's Draco. It's Draco. Draco. Draco. Draco." His voice cracked, and he buried his head in his hands. Hope was lost. There was no hope for him. Hermione didn't know who he was. His name kept coming from his mouth, like an endless babble, as if he himself was trying to remind himself of who he was. Draco Malfoy, Slytherin, Death Eater. Draco Malfoy, Slytherin, Death Eater.

Draco Malfoy, coward, idiot.

And then someone else was gently clutching his wrists and pulling his hands away from his face, someone else was caressing his cheeks and wiping away his tears, someone else was crying, someone else was crawling into his lap, someone else was there, saying his name, over and over again, "Draco, Draco, Draco," and Draco was grabbing onto her for something to hold onto and pulling her closer, burying his face into the nook of her shoulder and continuing to cry out his worries, his fears, his hatred. Hermione soothingly rubbed his back in circles, her cheek pressed against the top of his sleek blonde head, her eyes closed, tears falling. The two cried together, the Slytherin and the Gryffindor, the Mudblood and the Pureblood, the boy and the girl, because each other was all they had. There was no one else to turn to, no one else who understood, no one else to hold on to, no one else who they could show their weaknesses to, no one else to trust, no one else to love.

**:::**

"I thought you were dead." Draco finally whispered. They had embraced for a lengthy time, simply allowing themselves to give in to each other and cry away their fears. As Draco spoke, Hermione lifted her head, and Draco moved his from her shoulder nook. Hermione wiped away the trail of tears from her face, and Draco had the strange want to wipe them away himself. Her eyes were puffy and red, her nose pink, and Draco wondered if he looked the same way.

"They gave me Veritaserum." Hermione said shortly, glancing away as if ashamed.

"Did you tell them anything?" If they had found out anything vital…the war could be coming to an end, in Voldemort's favor.

Hermione shook her head, biting her lip, as her tears began to pour out even harder than before. "I-I didn't know the answers to the questions they were asking. I-I didn't know. S-So they tried to t-torture it out of me, but I c-can't remember the a-answers to what th-they're asking."

Draco felt no comfort from these words. In fact, they made his insides feel icy and cold. If what Hermione said was true…she had run her course. She was no longer useful. Her overdone torture and the violation of her body had driven Hermione into insanity, making her truly forget the information she had once held inside her. Voldemort must have figured that Veritaserum would bring it out of her, but it didn't.

She could now be disposed of.

Draco was mildly surprised, but very grateful, that they hadn't done it already, but the battle at Hogsmeade must have been right after the interrogation and they decided they could get rid of her later.

Draco returned his attention to Hermione, feeling fear grip him in its icy clutches. She was going to die. They were going to kill her.

Hermione was watching his expression, her eyes stormy and clouded. Did she know? Did she know what this meant? Did she know her death was now horribly, terribly close? A Death Eater could walk in at any moment to finish the job.

Draco had the staggering need to run. He needed to get away from here. He couldn't see her die. What could he possibly do to save her? Nothing. He was useless to her. He could not save her.

If he attempted to sneak her out, the guards would see and detect his lies and kill them on the spot. It wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth them _both _losing their lives over. There was no back way out of Azkaban. And he didn't know how to Apparate straight out. Only Voldemort and occasionally Bellatrix could do that, not him.

There was nothing he could do.

Draco felt utterly helpless. He stared at Hermione's heartbreaking gaze, at her falling tears, at her innocence. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. But what had he expected? What had he planned to do after Hermione gained some sanity? He couldn't waltz her through the front doors; that was impossible. And even if he _did _somehow manage to get her out, where would they go? She didn't know where the Headquarters of the Order was anymore. She didn't remember. They would just be found by Voldemort and murdered. Why should he try?

But he couldn't just let her die!

The sound of the door opening shattered Draco's world.

Light filtered in.

A shadow filled the doorway, a horrible, menacing monster, come to take everything away from him, come to destroy them all, come to end the world, come to take hope away.

It was Macnair.

How chillingly fitting; that Hermione's executioner had once been the executioner for the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. What a callous humor the world had.

Draco was not even aware that he had jumped to his feet, or that Hermione had crawled all the way to the back of the cell. "Draco, feeding the prisoners, eh?"

Draco surveyed the cell. There was no trace of food or crumbs showing that he had been there with food. Perhaps it was his luck that Macnair was so dull of mind. Draco silently nodded, refusing to meet Hermione's gaze, knowing he would see pleading, a cry for help, something he could not bare to even glimpse.

"Guess you can stay to see the show," Macnair growled, twirling his wand in his right hand with a sick smile. Hermione whimpered, and it tore through Draco's heart, slicing his insides, making him want to grab the front of Macnair's robes and beg, plead, you can't kill her, not her, please don't kill her.

"Hey there Girlie," Macnair said, turning his attention to Hermione, who Draco still refused to look at. I'm sorry, I can't do it, I can't help, I'm sorry. "It'll only hurt for a second, then it'll _all _be over." There was a sick twist in his words, one that made Draco's insides squirm. Was he not going to torture her? Torturing had never been Macnair's specialty. Just extermination.

Macnair raised his wand arm, grinning sadistically.

Draco looked at Hermione.

She was not looking at Macnair. She was staring straight at _him. _Her brown eyes swam with pleading, she was scared, scared to die, just like he was, and oh if she died there would be nothing left and he would regret it all his life even if it was a short life but what was he supposed to do if he saved her they would both die but maybe not maybe he could save her maybe he could save them both but _how_?

Macnair took a deep breath. Draco's hand itched for his wand, begging him to do something, you can't just stand here and watch her die, she's looking at you, you can do something, you can make a difference!

Was it worth the risk?

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

* * *

**A/N: I'm cruel, I know :)**


	8. Escape

**A/N: I don't really like this chapter. It's mostly filler, and it was incredibly hard to write, and in my opinion it shows. But, I hope you guys still like it!**

**Thank you to: KoolieoPenguinez, RoseRedMisery, InSleepHeSangToMe, lacking a better name, .xX, DracoMalfoy4Ever, cherryVanillaCoke16, Alex, dizzydazzle (I had that song stuck in my head for hours after reading your review! haha), Leanora, Treacherous Darkness, Ceylon, and Tiadorable! That's my most reviews so far I think, and I've almost reached 50! That's great!**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. :(**

Chapter 7: Escape

_What had he done?_

Macnair's dead body lay at his feet, his eyes glazed over, his mouth still open in a little 'o' of surprise. Draco had to clutch his stomach and will himself not to vomit. He had just killed. He had just taken life.

Hermione was looking from the body, back to Draco, then back to the body, her eyes wide and thankful, but at the same time very frightened. "Draco," she whispered, and Draco remembered the reason he had just committed this horrible, _punishable by death_ crime.

"We have to get out of here." Draco rushed forward and grabbed Hermione's wrist, jerking her upwards. She gave out a little cry of protest and stumbled slightly, but Draco didn't care. All he knew was that they had to get _out_, and fast. Macnair might not be missed for hours, it could give them a head start, but they had to effectively get out of Azkaban first. This would be the hardest part. Dementors guarded the front door, and they'd be horribly challenging to get past. Could they detect lies? There was only one way to find out. "Come on." Draco began to tow Hermione behind him, but she stumbled and her legs gave out. He stared at her, piled on the ground, in horror. She couldn't even _walk? _"You've got to get up. Hermione, we've got to get _out_."  
It wouldn't look entirely convincing if Draco carried Hermione out of Azkaban bridal-style. He wouldn't look like he was leading her out; he'd look like he was helping her out. This, quite unfortunately, was what he was doing. "Please, Hermione." His voice was nearing desperation now as Hermione struggled to stand. She was having a hard time of it, even with him helping. She had obviously not used her legs for some time, and they had grown weak and feeble. Finally, after what seemed hours, she stood, her legs wobbling slightly. Draco bent over and grabbed Macnair's wand, thrusting it towards Hermione, who took it, her face now looking fiercely determined. "We've got to make this look convincing." He said, as he pointed his own wand at Hermione's wrists. "_Incendio." _Thick ropes wound its way around her wrists loosely, so she could get out of them easily if needed, and Draco grabbed the end of the rope, pulling her out of the cell. He shut the door, ignoring the heap that was Macnair's body, and locked it with his wand, and then stared down the corridor, taking a deep breath. He was trying not to let his fear show, but it was coursing its way through him, and he felt that he had made a terrible mistake. Dementors detected fear. How would they possibly not smell him and Hermione, who were both terrified? Was it even _possible _to hide fear from Dementors?

No. It wasn't.

But they couldn't just _sit _here and wait for someone to discover the dead body, with them sitting peacefully in the corner! What could he possible say? _Oh, that? Well, he just sorta…dropped dead. Don't really know what happened. _That would only succeed in them sending another Death Eater to kill Hermione and himself most likely being killed for his lies. Draco couldn't believe what he had done. Why had he been so stupid? She was just a girl! And now he was going to lose his life, and so was she!  
Hermione had been watching him intently, her hands held out in front of her, tied together by the rope. Draco grabbed her arm and tried to Disapparate, but the thin air they were supposed to be going through felt solid and immovable. He tried again. Nothing.

Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic, don't panic.

What would Potter do? He always seemed to get out of close shaves alright.

That was pointless. How could he possibly know what Potter would do? He was not Potter. He was Draco Malfoy. He was not a hero. He was not lucky. And now he was going to die.

"What do we do?" Hermione's timid voice broke into his thoughts. For some reason, her question angered him. Gee, I don't know, I just saved your life; it's your turn to do something!

Instead he just gave her a look that conveyed all his thoughts. They were going to die; that's what. "Any ideas?" He said harshly, glancing at the rope tied around her wrists.

"Well, don't Dementors guard the doors?" Draco nodded in response. Hermione's shoulders sagged. "Dementors detect fear, don't they?" He nodded again. In other words: they were finished. "Well, if we're not afraid, and you tell them it's You-Know-Who's orders that I be taken out, maybe they'll fall for it. And if they don't…do you know the Patronus Charm?"

Draco was pretty surprised she knew it, herself. Or, more accurately, that she remembered it. "How do you remember that?"

Hermione shrugged slightly, obviously trying not to show the terror she was feeling inside. "I remembered…you say, _Expecto Patronum, _and think happy thoughts. I don't…I don't think I could do it, though."

"Well that's great, because I sure don't know how to do it." Things were going downhill rapidly. Why couldn't he have just let Macnair kill her? His stomach squirmed at the thought of it. He didn't want her to die. But…he didn't want to die, either.

"If we can't Apparate out of here, maybe a house elf can!" Hermione suddenly exclaimed, as if she figured this sudden idea was brilliant. "And you have house elves!"

"There's a barrier up against them so the house elves, kind of like Dobby, can't whisk in a prisoner's cell and take them out." Draco responded despondently.

"Well then we'll just have to walk right out the front door." Hermione said firmly, giving her wrists a little shake, as if to command him to grab the ropes.

Draco observed her skeptically. "I'd rather keep my soul, thanks."

"We're wasting time! This is the closest I've ever been to getting out, and if you're just going to sit here and pout until the Dark Lord comes and finds you, then be my guest! But _I'm _leaving!" And without a word, she stuck up her nose and stomped in the direction of a line of different cells.

"You _are _going the wrong way, you know." Draco, partly amused, partly petrified, tried to fake a smirk as she turned to glare at him.

"Well _do _lead me out, won't you?" Hermione grimaced. "Look, I'm sure when you come in this place your scared of the Dementors anyway, right? So what's the difference going to be? And I'll kind of be _expected _to be afraid, won't I?"

Draco thought over her words. It made sense. Every morning and evening he did feel a bit of fear as he passed by the Dementors. So how did they know if someone that wasn't supposed to be leaving _was_?

Draco's eyes found the rope tying Hermione's wrists together. With a deep breath, he grabbed hold of the end and began to tug her towards the stairs. "If we die, it's all your fault. And look scared."

"I _am _scared."

Trying his best to ignore Hermione's mumbled words under her breath, he walked on, hoping he didn't come across Bellatrix or someone who the Dark Lord would've actually talked to before the lowly Draco Malfoy if something of this magnitude had been ordered.

"Draco, what're you doing with that prisoner?"

This was his chance to practice his story. A Snatcher was staring at him as if he had grown a second head, looking at Hermione, then the rope, then Draco. Hermione was putting on a good show of looking terrified. Her brown eyes were wide and her lower lip was sticking out, as if she was desperately trying to hold in the tears. Or maybe she wasn't acting.

"The Dark Lord's orders. She's to be killed outside Azkaban and have her body dumped in the ocean." Draco said smoothly, extremely surprised that his voice hadn't even trembled. Before the Snatcher could say a word, Draco gave a tug on the ropes, and they continued on their journey to the door with the Dementors, Hermione stumbling a bit and giving out a very believable cry.

The great, two black doors were coming closer. Draco could see them. They were large and intimidating; he tried to look confident, he tried to swallow his fear, he really did. But how could one swallow something as large as his fear was? It was impossible to not be afraid. Who did not fear death? Who could possibly ignore the horrific terror that was imminent _death_?

And then, before he could even turn and run, they were passing through the front doors. Immediately, a chilling sensation swept over him, and Draco felt absolutely lost. Why had he even tried? It was hopeless. They were all going to die.

A scaly hand came out of the cloak and stopped right in front of Draco's chest. Draco understood the silent threat. Prisoners do not go out. Draco swallowed. "This prisoner is to be killed outside of Azkaban. T-The Dark Lord does not want her Mudblood f-filth staining the floors of his domain. H-His d-direct o-orders."

The scaly hand did not move. The Dementors only seemed to sink closer…there was no point in trying to fight it, they were going to die…it had all been pointless…he shouldn't have even tried…they were going to _die…_the Dementor's hood fell slightly back, and Draco could see the great hole that was the Dementor's mouth, sucking, his soul would be gone shortly…hopeless…

_"Expecto Patronum!" _

A silver otter burst from somewhere behind him, and the Dementors immediately shrank back, as if fearing the light. Draco turned, and Hermione was trembling, but Macnair's wand was held firmly in her hand. She had broken free from the poorly wrapped ropes around her wrists and had somehow been able to conquer the feeling the Dementors had caused. How had she done it? Draco felt the great weight of depression suddenly lift off of him, and he felt compelled to live again.

Didn't a Patronus need some sort of happy memory? What memory did Hermione have that could possibly be happy?

"Hurry!"

Her screech brought him back to his senses, and he grabbed her wrist and sprinted out into the light. He could hear someone screaming behind him, a spell whizzed by his head, he turned as quick as he could, thoughts set firmly on his destination, Hermione's wrist held securely in his hand, and he felt the familiar sensation of Disapparition as they disappeared from the hell that was Azkaban.

They were free.  
"Where are we?" Hermione whispered, after they had come to a stop, as she surveyed their surroundings. They were in a dense wood, and the trees all around them and the ground were covered in a thick coating of snow. It could be called a beautiful sight, somewhat peaceful, if not for the current feeling of dread that was pumping throughout Draco.

"Forest outside of where the Quidditch World Cup was," Draco replied shortly, eyes focused on Hermione. And then he reached forward and grabbed her shoulders, feeling suddenly driven by a need to survive, to live, and shook her roughly. She shrank back, her eyes wide and afraid, trying to break free from his grip. "You've _got _to remember where the Order of the Phoenix is, Granger! You've got to! Our survival depends on it! I _know _that's where Snape's been hiding out, and he's survived so far. You've got to remember!"

A sense of hopelessness was spreading through him as he watched the look on Hermione's face. She was wracking her brains, he could tell, come on Hermione you've got to remember you've just got to!

"I-I don't know!" Hermione cried out, and she was feebly trying to get out of his tight grasp, her eyes starting to fill with tears, and the hopelessness felt so absolute that Draco fell to the ground in defeat. How can one flee from Voldemort?

How can one escape Death himself in all his fury, with nowhere to go?


	9. Sanctuary

**A/N: Hey guys! I finally updated :) Hope you like this chapter :)**

**Wow, 60 reviews! Thanks to: RoseRedMisery, Leanora, TheLastRider, DracoMalfoy4Ever, Shyrazie, cherrylove19, .xX, Ceylon, leakingpenholder, KoolieoPenguinez, RainboLuck, dizzydazzle, SpiritGirl183, and Presence of Aquarius for reviewing! You guys are awesome! Considering my last story got 2 whole reviews, this is a big deal for me! :)**

**Disclaimer: Not mine :(**

Chapter 8: Sanctuary

Draco and Hermione found a cave that was a good distance into a different forest they had Apparated into. The two of them had decided that it would be best to continue moving to make sure that they were never in one place for long enough to be detected. Draco knew that at first, Voldemort would send Death Eaters to hunt them down. And then, when they yielded no results, he would begin his own search. Draco only knew this because this was what had happened when Snape had betrayed the Dark Lord.

Now if they could only get into wherever the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix was! That was how Snape had been surviving! Not even Voldemort himself could find this place. That was what made Draco positive that if he tried to search, he would never find it on his own. Their survival hinged on Hermione's memory.

They had a week. A week until Voldemort would begin to hunt them down, and he would kill everyone in his path until he reached them. A week of going from forest to forest to town to town and trying to revive Hermione's memory so that they could be safe. She was straining to remember, and did not speak to him much, so lost in her own thoughts. He felt somewhat guilty, as he was also keeping his distance from her in his frustration.

Finally, sleep had become necessary. So, they had found this cave.

Hermione was sleeping in one of the corners of the cave, and Draco was near the other, unable to fall asleep. He also had a horrible feeling that if they both were asleep, they would immediately be found. So he was staying awake, unable to bring himself to make Hermione stay awake when she so obviously needed this peaceful sleep.

He was resting his chin on his chest, beginning to have trouble keeping his eyes open, so very tired, when Hermione's scream rent through the air.

He jumped to his feet faster than he ever had in his life, his wand drawn. But Hermione was only thrashing around in her sleep, screaming because of some nightmare that was plaguing her. He immediately leapt the few steps to get to her and gently grabbed her shoulders, shaking her. "Hermione! Hermione, wake up!"

Her screams stopped and her eyes slowly opened, the great brown orbs finding his own, tears filling them. Why did she have to cry so much? "It's ok. It was just a nightmare." Draco said, desperate to break the silence as she continued to look up into his face. She nodded silently, her hands reaching forward to clutch his shirt as she pulled herself up into a sitting position.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I guess I woke you."

"It's fine. I wasn't exactly asleep." Draco said, feeling quite awkward. What was he supposed to do now?

Hermione continued to inspect his face. Then, to Draco's surprise, she leaned herself against his body, her head against his chest. He watched her face as it turned a light pink. "That night…" Hermione began, her voice trembling slightly, "that we fell asleep in the cell…it was the first time I didn't have nightmares."

Draco understood. When Hermione was alone, she felt vulnerable and exposed. Silently, he leaned his back against the wall of the cave and allowed her to lean her body against him. She didn't seem at all uncomfortable with this position, and instantly closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Draco awkwardly wrapped an arm around her, leaning his own head against the wall of the cave and closing his eyes.

The world was rent apart.

The entire cave they were in seemed to explode from around them. Instinctively, Draco threw his entire body over Hermione's as she screamed in shock. He felt the debris falling on top of him, heavily, it hurt, the pain, was it over? He was buried under the wreckage of what had been their haven, was his back broken? He tried to move, but he couldn't, was Hermione ok?

"Think that got 'em?" A deep, bored-sounding voice said from somewhere above Draco. Rookwood. He froze instantly, dearly hoping he was concealed under the wreckage. The edges of his vision were blackening, and the sharp, throbbing pain in his back was beginning to overwhelm him. Tears were brewing in his eyes as he desperately attempted to hold in the scream of pain that wanted so very badly to rip from his lungs.

"Should've knocked them out at least. The Dark Lord wants them alive, so you better hope they still are." Avery's voice sounded somewhere to the left of Draco. He continued to lie completely and utterly still, hoping that Hermione was alright. How could he get up and Disapparate without them hexing him? They had to get out of here. If only his arm would move so he could get to his wand and maybe hex them when they were unaware! But his entire body didn't seem to be functioning; it was oh so hard to move, with all this pain coursing through him…

"Here, clear the rubble, we'll take 'em back…"

Something stirred underneath him, sending horrible pains throughout his back, but the thing didn't stop, it was squirming, attempting to reach the surface, no, Hermione, they'll see, we'll die, no…

A wand poked out from the rubble near him, it was Macnair's, there was a loud shot of "_Stupefy!" _and a body thudded to the ground, and then Avery's body met the same fate before he could even react, and they were both lying there, immobile. Hermione was pushing through the rubble from slightly underneath and to the left of him, and she broke the surface, only a few cuts on her cheeks and arms. Immediately, her eyes wide with worry, she got down on her knees and scooped away the rubble near Draco. He groaned as she attempted to help him sit up, the pain so dreadful that movement was an impossibility. She immediately shrank back, mumbling an apology.

"We've got to get out of here, Draco, hurry, before more come!" Her voice was scared, frantic. He wanted to get up, he really did, but even the simple task of breathing was wracking his body with immense pains.

"Can't…move…" He managed to gasp out, his eyes sliding out of focus, his back was surely split into, nothing else could be the cause of so much pain…he was dying, oh he was dying…

"Avery? Rookwood? You find them?" A call came from somewhere out in the woods, and in complete desperation Hermione grabbed his arm and turned on the spot.

The normal sensation that he was being squeezed through a rubber tube had never seemed so painful, so horrible, he felt as if he were being ripped apart, and oh he was going to die the pain was so immense he surely must be dying…

**:::**

Something was touching him, his forehead, cool hands…he was lying on cold, hard ground, the last thing he remembered was that his back must've been broken it had hurt so bad, but how had it happened?

The cave exploding, throwing himself over Hermione, the Death Eaters…

His eyes shot open. The first thing he saw was Hermione's bushy head, an empty vial in one hand and a wet cloth in the other. She was dabbing at his face with the latter, and as soon as she noticed he was conscious, her face split in a wide grin. "You're awake!" She exclaimed, looking pleased with herself.

"Where are we?" Malfoy groaned, trying to get a look around him without too much movement. Hermione glanced around her, as if trying to decide herself.

"I'm not really sure…I mean, I was thinking of where to go, and this place sort of came to mind…and here we are." Hermione looked unsure of how he would take this information, but Draco didn't really care, as long as they were safe.

"What happened to me?"

Hermione put the glass vial down and hugged her knees to her chest. "Well, I think you broke your back…I went into town though, and this lady told me this potion would help…"

"You what?!" Draco said loudly, almost attempting to sit up but immediately stopping at the pain that shot through his back. It wasn't as bad as before, but he didn't do well with pain. "Hermione, people think you're dead, and if this lady gave you a potion, then she was a witch!"

Hermione moodily crossed her arms over her chest. "Well obviously I'm fine, and so are you! You could've never walked again if not for that potion! And anyways, I had a hood. The witch said that was pretty common these days; people not wanting to be seen and such."

He was _grateful, _sure, but also worried. "How'd you just find a witch with a potion for backs?" Draco questioned, his suspicions rising.

Here, Hermione glanced down at the ground. "Well, er, I wasn't exactly hiding the wand you got me too well, I guess, and she saw me. She said it was wise of me to have my wand out though, said we witches and wizards should be able to know each other in these dark times. She had opened up a little Potions shop when You-Know-Who started to win the war, thinking it might be wise in case someone got hurt. There's a little community of witches and wizards in this town. I asked if she had anything for a broken back, and she brewed it up."

"And how, exactly, did you pay for this?"

Hermione seemed to be increasingly becoming more embarrassed. "Well…I sort of…took it when she went in the back to get something else I 'needed'." At Draco's incredulous look, she held up her hands in defense. "I didn't have any money, and you were hurt, and I was worried! What else was I supposed to do?"

Draco honestly didn't care that she had stolen the potion, but it seemed so alarming that _Hermione Granger_ had _stolen_ the potion. He relaxed a bit more, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, the throbbing in his back beginning to fade into a dull, constant ache.  
"So where were you thinking of when you Apparated here?" He asked nonchalantly, hoping against hope that she had been thinking of…

"Well, I sort of was trying to remember where the Order of the Phoenix was."

"It's _here?!"_

Hermione jumped a bit at his excited reaction. "I looked! I looked around town, and I have no idea if it's here. This is just what popped into my mind!"

Draco heaved himself into a sitting position, ignoring the jabbing pain in his back that told him not to, and stared into Hermione's anxious eyes. "We have to look harder. We might be able to detect something magical, and it could be here. Hermione, we can find this place, and find Potter!"

After a moment where surprise flitted across Hermione's features, she then smiled and narrowed her eyes in determination.

**:::**

Draco's back had been healed enough by the miraculous potion so that he could walk with only an ache making him a bit slower. They trudged into town after dark, wearing Muggle blankets around their faces like hoods that they had found hanging outside a nearby home. It was too dangerous to be detected now, when they could be so close to safety.

And so they scoured the city, trying to find any sign of magic. Magic almost always left traces, so surely they could find this place, right?

After hours and hours of searching so that it was nearly three in the morning, Draco had been passing rows of houses when he saw it in the darkness. 11, 13. No 12. An accident by a careless Muggle, or was a magical home hidden here? He traced his hand over the 11, and beckoned Hermione over.

Hermione gaped at the little gap in-between houses number 11 and 13. When he impatiently asked what she was looking at, she just pointed a shaking finger at the gap. "There's nothing there!" Draco cried out in frustration, and she seemed to break out of her trance and glance at him.

"You mean you don't see it?"

"See _what?"_

"This is it." Hermione stepped towards the little gap. "This is the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix!"

The moment the words left her mouth, a battered door emerged out of nowhere between houses 11 and 13, immediately followed by grimy walls and windows. It was as though an extra house had inflated itself and pushed the others out of the way to make room. Draco's mouth fell open, quite unable to believe his eyes.

"You see it now?" Hermione asked, correctly reading the look on his face. Silently, Draco nodded.

He followed her up to the steps, where, as if having known what to do the whole time, Hermione pulled out Macnair's wand and tapped it on the door. The battered old door with the silver knocker in the shape of a serpent swung open. Silently and swiftly, holding their breaths, they stepped inside and removed the blankets from their heads.

They were in a dimly lit hallway, and as Draco looked up, he saw an old, grand chandelier. "Hermione," he whispered. "I'll stay back. It's going to be hard convincing them you're the real Hermione, and it won't help if you have a Death Eater tagging along."

Hermione nodded, and Draco could see the apprehension and fear in her eyes. She was nervous, he could tell, nervous to see the people who thought she was dead, the people who loved her. He nodded back, and she turned, making her way down the hall alone.

But it seemed their arrival had not gone unnoticed. Harry Potter stood at the end of the hallway, unable to see Draco behind Hermione, staring at his dead friend in shock and horror, his wand half-heartedly raised, his mouth hanging open.

Hermione shuffled her feet nervously, and he could just see her hesitantly smile. "Hello, Harry."

**

* * *

**

A/N: So, I figured that since Hermione became a Secret-Keeper when Dumbledore died, if she told Draco that it was the Order of the Phoenix, it would appear to him. Sorry if that's wrong! Hermione and Draco were originally not supposed to find Grimmauld Place for a chapter or two more, but it seemed to me that reading about them pointlessly wondering around would get kind of boring, so I sped it up. Tell me what you guys think! Hope it was ok!


	10. Trust Me

**A/N: Yay! Another update! So, although not as much happens in this chapter, I personally think it's a bit better than the last one. Hope you guys agree!**

**Thanks to Leanora, RoseRedMisery, Gossip Girl Lover 101, Hartwi1, cherryVanillaCoke16, KoolieoPenguinez, and Presence of Aquarius for reviewing! You guys are amazing, I couldn't say it enough!**

Chapter 9: Trust Me

For a few, tense seconds, Potter did not move. He simply stood there, his wand half-raised, his mouth stupidly hanging open. And then pieces seemed to fit together in his head, and his wand shot back up. "Who are you?" He demanded, and Hermione seemed to shrink back at his harsh tone.

"It's me, Harry. It's Hermione."

"Hermione's dead."

Hermione set her shoulders back determinedly, staring Harry straight in the face. "My Patronus is an otter, your Patronus is a stag, and Ron's is a Jack Russell terrier." Draco was not sure how or when she had remembered this information, but he wasn't complaining.

For a fraction of a moment, Potter's wand lowered, but then he shook his head, refusing to believe that his best friend had come back from the dead. Draco didn't blame him. "What was the last thing I said to you?!" He shouted, his hand trembling.

For a moment, Hermione said nothing. Did she remember? Then, her head raised a bit, and she whispered, "Stay safe."

The Boy-Who-Lived still could not believe his eyes. After all, this information could always have been tortured out of the real Hermione before she was ruthlessly murdered. "What were we looking for after Hogwarts? That Dumbledore entrusted us to do?"

There was silence. Draco could just see her face from the shadows he stood in behind her, and he could see herself searching for the answer, everything relied on this answer, could she remember? She had to. Potter must've specifically picked this question because he would know if the Dark Lord had found this out, this secret mission entrusted to him by the great Albus Dumbledore.

After a silence that must've been an eternity, Hermione answered him. "Horcruxes."

What the hell were Horcruxes? Sounded like something quite strange to Draco. He had never even heard of them.

The wand clattered to the floor, no longer needed. Potter's green eyes filled with unshed tears, he stared into her face, refusing to believe, Draco could practically read his thoughts; if he believed, would he be punished? Was it a dream? Was this possible? "H-Hermione?" He whispered so low that Draco was surprised he had heard, his voice trembling, looking into the brown eyes of his dead best friend, taking in her appearance, from her horribly chapped lips to her tangled hair caked with dirt, to her scarred face and arms, to her sickeningly skinny arms and legs and body, to her too pale skin…

Hermione laughed shakily, running forward with her arms outstretched, and she leapt into his arms. Harry returned the gesture almost greedily, his eyes now shut, tears steadily pouring from them, soaking his face. His arms were wrapped around her tightly, so tightly his knuckles were turning white, and Hermione was sobbing, and Potter was beaming, he looked truly alive again, and Draco was so very alone.

Just at that moment, Potter's eyes opened and spotted Draco over Hermione's shoulder. Immediately, the wand was back out again, Hermione had been dropped from his arms, and he was yelling, "Get back! What are _you_ doing here?!"

"Harry, stop!" Hermione shouted, placing her body firmly in-between Draco's and Harry's, her arms outstretched, just as Draco had tensed, his hand over his pocket. "He rescued me! You can trust him!"

For a tense moment, Potter continued to point his wand carefully over Hermione's shoulder, his green eyes calculating Draco, and he felt as if they were seeing straight through him, as if he were being X-rayed, so much like when he was face-to-face with Dumbledore…and then the wand was lowering, and Potter's face had lost the anger it had held only a moment ago. "Why?" He asked, a simple question, and yet so very complex.

How could he respond to such a question? It was impossible. He didn't know why. What _had _brought him to this moment? In the house of the enemy, in the house of Potter, away from everything he had once known. "She…She wasn't Granger anymore." He considered it to be a very lame answer, but Potter seemed to find it suitable, and nodded, returning his attention back to Hermione.

"You tired? Hungry?" He asked like a servant, ready to bend to her every will, his eyes shining with true love and happiness as he watched her, watched her move, watched her breathe, watched her smile. Was this what true friendship was meant to be like? Years ago he had found it disgusting, but now…he was envious.

"Just tired, now." Hermione answered, smiling politely. "Got an extra room?"

"There's a little one upstairs. It's pretty packed in here right now, but it's a decent sized house. Malfoy," Harry jerked his head in Draco's direction, "can take the floor in me and Ron's room, or the couch." Draco scowled. "I'm sure you want to wait to see everyone until the morning. No offense, but you look like you could use a good night's sleep."

Hermione laughed slightly, nodding. "Yeah, I'm really tired. But Harry…" She shuffled her feet nervously, suddenly interested in the floorboards. "Do you mind…I mean…Draco can share the room with me, it's fine. I doubt he wants to share a room with you and Ron. And it might wake Ron up."

A feeling of _ha! Take that Potter!_ surged through Draco, a feeling he had not had since Hogwarts. It felt exhilarating. Potter's entire face had darkened at her words, and he was looking at Draco with thinly veiled suspicion. "Relax, Potter. She's safe with me." Draco drawled, a smirk on his face, feeling like his true self for the first time in a _very_ long time.

"Hermione," said Potter, completely ignoring him, "are you sure? I mean…this is _Malfoy _we're talking about. He could've been ordered by Voldemort," this earned a shudder out of both Draco and Hermione, "to set you free and then find out where our Headquarters are!"

_He could've lowered his voice_, Draco thought dryly. Hermione smiled calmly, placing a hand on Harry's arm. "Relax, Harry. If you trust me, trust him. He's proved himself to me, he's saved my life, he's helped me more than you could ever know. The other Death Eaters tried to kill us, and he killed one of them. I've seen Draco… just, please Harry, trust me." Draco was almost sure she was about to say 'completely break down and sob like a baby' but had held it in for his sake. Ah, well.

"You know I trust you, Hermione." Potter whispered, pulling her into another tight embrace. For a long time they stayed that way. Then, ever so gently, Hermione pulled back and lifted herself up on her tiptoes to kiss Potter on the cheek.

"I'm really tired, Harry. Can you show us the room?"

Secretly, Draco was extremely glad she asked. He felt as if he were swaying on his feet, when was the last time he had properly slept? It must have been years ago. Potter nodded, leading them up a set of stairs, all the way to the fourth floor. "You can stay in Regulus' room. No one's much wanted to stay in there because of the decorations, but Lupin and Bill are both squeezed in Sirius' room, and all the others are pretty crammed…" Harry said, swinging open a door to reveal a room decked in the Slytherin colors.

"It's fine, Harry," Hermione said, smiling softly, "go get some rest. You look like you could use it, yourself."

Harry nodded, sweeping Hermione in an up-down glance once more, as if to remember this moment forever, just in case it was a dream. "Goodnight, Hermione." He whispered, and Draco almost groaned as tears bleared the edges of Potter's eyes again. They hugged one last time, and then Potter descended the stairs, without so much as a glance at Draco.

"He'll warm up to you." Hermione grinned, turning her back to Draco and walking into the room.

"Can't wait." Draco mumbled, following her inside. "I don't know what Potter was talking about; I happen to think the decorations in this room are marvelous." Draco smirked as Hermione rolled her eyes at him, crawling into the bed without another word.

For a moment, Draco simply watched her pull the covers up to her chin and sink pleasurably into the bed. How long had it been since she had been in a bed? Years? What horrors had Hermione faced previously? Had the Muggle and Muggle-born camps been even worse than Azkaban? How had she even lived through it?

"You coming, dear?" Hermione said sarcastically, patting the spot next to her without opening her eyes.

Draco laughed, pulling off his muddy shirt and tossing it to the ground, not particularly wanting to sleep in his own filth. He crawled into the bed next to Hermione, and she opened her eyes, raising her eyebrows at him. "Going shirtless tonight, honey?"

"Just trying to give you as much pleasure as possible, _dear_." Draco replied with a smirk as she slapped him on the chest, rolling over and closing her eyes again. "Goodnight, darling."

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

Draco laughed, but the moment he closed his eyes he had drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

**:::**

Hermione dreamt that night.

She dreamed flashes of things that seemed so real; and in the back of her subconscious she registered them to be memories.

Her life had been quite exciting.

She dreamed flashes of trolls, giant chessboards, giant snakes, werewolves, dragons, merpeople, the Order, toad-like teachers, centaurs, giants, Death Eaters, Voldemort, losing love, being saddened, searching for Horcruxes, not finding many, and always, by her side, Ron and Harry, ever present, never leaving, always there for her. But Draco, Draco was there in a much different way – to throw insults at her around every corner, to hate her, why did he hate her so much, no one had ever hated her so much, and she didn't know what she had done, but that feeling of loss soon disappeared and was replaced by hate, she had never hated someone so much, he only threw insults at her, _ugly, bitch, Mudblood_, she had never even _done _anything to him…

And that night, that horrible night, she was home, laughing with her mother and father, oh how she loved them so much, they were so perfect, and the Death Eaters had broken open the door, but how had they gotten through the enchantments? But it didn't matter, they were there, oh where was her wand, she needed her wand, her wand! But it didn't matter, she was too late, much too late, there were the thud of two bodies, Mom! Dad! They lay on the floor, eyes glassy, so still, they couldn't be dead, no! But they didn't move, they didn't get up, they were gone, truly and irreversibly gone, life cruelly taken from them, it wasn't fair! And the Death Eaters were laughing, and she was attacking them, screaming mentally, and one of them simply flicked his wand, and then so much pain was coursing through her body, so much pain, oh make it end, make it stop, Mom, Dad, make it go away…

Hermione woke crying. Her first instinct was to scream, for she swore there were Death Eaters lurking in the shadows of her cell…

But there weren't Death Eaters, she wasn't in her cell, she was in the safety of Grimmauld Place. Hermione picked up her pillow and hugged it to her body, pressing her face tightly into it and letting out a sob. Her parents truly were gone. How could she have been stupid enough to forget? She felt as if she had betrayed their memory. Mom, Dad, forgive me…Oh, she loved them so much, it was her fault they were dead, all her fault…

She would fix it. She would avenge them. She would put an end to this war, this death, and she would lose no one else she loved. No one.

And then there was Draco. She had forgotten how cruel he had been to her. Why _had _he hated her so much? She glanced at his still form, sleeping peacefully next to her. His too blonde hair fell peacefully in his face, and she pictured the boy who had tormented her in her younger days. This…this was not him. This was a different man. She could see that just from staring at him. He was…hardened, somehow, by the war. The youthful ignorance in his face was completely gone, replaced by something much deeper. The war had changed them both in ways that couldn't be reversed. She trusted Draco Malfoy. He had saved her in more ways than one.

What had changed him? What had made him feel the need to save _her_, the Mudblood, the person he had so truly despised? Had he gotten in too far? She remembered, so easily it was as if the thought had never truly left her mind, having an odd mix of pride and sadness for him when he had not killed Dumbledore, but been taken by the Death Eaters.

Oh how she wished she could see into his head! What did he think when he saw her? What did he feel that he did not feel years ago? What had happened to him to change him so drastically? This was not Draco Malfoy.

And she was truly euphoric at this fact. Because this, _this_ Draco Malfoy she cared about, in a way much different than Ron and Harry, although she couldn't explain it. She knew it would be difficult for Harry and Ron to even begin to trust him, but they would do it for her, they would do anything for her.

Would Draco? He had killed for her, risked everything for her, he could've died for her. What an odd thought. Draco Malfoy would do anything for her. Her, the Muggle-born.

The world sure did have an odd way of turning things about on its head until enemies became friends, until hate turned into a love far deeper than any kind of love a husband and wife felt for one another.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you guys liked it! While you (hopefully) wait for the next update, you guys should go read the Dramione fanfiction: A World Apart by lolagirl. Oh my God, it's so freakin' good! I started reading it and couldn't stop. It's also kind of angsty if you like that kind of stuff, which I do. I'm weird like that :)**


	11. Believe Me

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait! Just a little longer and then school will be over, and then hopefully updates will be faster!**

**Thank you to: .xX, Hartwi1, KoolieoPenguinez, RosieRose, Leanora, tema, Presence of Aquarius, RoseRedMisery, RainboLuck, dizzydazzle, and Ceylon (I'm so glad someone got that! The simpler meaning of the title is that at the beginning Hermione is in a sort of insane asylum, but as the story progressed I was hoping someone would get the deeper meaning)! I read every single review with a huge smile, they make me so freakin' happy! I almost have 100!**

Chapter 10: Believe Me

Draco roused much later, tangled in the mass of sheets and blankets and feeling a bit more revitalized. His body ached and as he rose and stretched, his body groaned in protest. He glanced out a window on the right wall, and observed that it was already quite bright out, well past what he normally slept till. Draco peeked over at the other side of the bed, and saw that it was vacant. Hmm, Hermione must've beaten him in getting up.

He heard the continual issuing of water from a shower just behind a door to the left. A shower sounded remarkable…to rinse away the mud and dirt that clung to his skin. That must be what Hermione was doing.

Draco contemplated about how they were going to approach the matter of showing themselves to the rest of the inhabitants of this place without all of them freaking out. He didn't exactly want to be hexed before they could even explain. He suspected Potter had a longer fuse than the most of them; Weasley would probably kill him before listening to a word of reason. Maybe Potter could tell them their story first? Or maybe Draco could just sit contentedly on their large bed until Hermione had enlightened the rest on how he had turned to their side.

At that moment, the door leading to the bathroom opened, steam rushing out. Hermione's head poked out hesitantly, but the moment she spotted him her head whipped back and the door slammed shut. Fighting a laugh, Draco called out, "Have a problem?"

A frustrated moan came from behind the closed door. "I don't have any other clothes other than these filthy rags!"

"Sounds dreadful." Draco responded, smirking to himself.

"Yes, quite! So go get some for me."

He had not expected this turn. "What?"

"Go get me one of Harry's sweatshirts and pants or something!"

Leaning against the bed, Draco shouted out, "Don't you think Weasley will kill me on sight if he spots me slinking about this house?" Really, and he thought she was smart.  
"Then don't get caught! I need bloody clothes!"

"If you had _thought _before entering the shower, we wouldn't be in this situation! Why don't you just go get some yourself?"

"I'm _NUDE!" _Hermione shrieked, her voice going up an octave as she began to near desperation.

"Your point?"

Draco laughed at the aggravated scream from behind the door. "Draco Malfoy, go risk death and get me some bloody clothes or I will kill you myself!"

"Ah," Draco said, feigning exasperation, "the things I do for you."

"Thanks, dear." Hermione said sarcastically. "Just don't run into Ron. He'll most likely blow your head off."

"Thank you for that encouraging assurance."

"It's been nice knowing you."  
Without another word, Draco stole into the hallway, peering over the banister. He was surprised to see that he could practically see the first floor from his position, and he could hear the clatter of plates and chatting of people. Must be lunchtime. Swiftly withdrawing his head before he was spotted, Draco took a deep breath and tiptoed down the stairs, dearly hoping there wasn't a particular stair that creaked loudly when you stepped on it.

Where had Potter said he was staying? The second floor? Or was it the third…Taking a risk, Draco peered into a door on the second floor, whispering, "Potter?" There was no answer, so he slipped into the room before someone came up the stairs.

Thankfully, it was completely deserted. There were two beds and a dresser was propped up against the far wall. Quietly, he pried open a drawer and found an assortment of clothes. Whether they were Potter's or not, he couldn't be sure, but he extracted a sweatshirt and some sweatpants before anyone would mosey up to their room and find Draco Malfoy, Death Eater, going through their belongings.

"You owe me," Draco said loudly as he reentered his and Hermione's room with a sigh of thankfulness.

"You're the best!" Hermione's far too cheery voice made him scowl, and the door opened a crack, her bare arm groping around, waiting for the clothes. He dropped them in her expecting hand and the door slammed shut. Moments later Hermione appeared in the far too large clothing. It made her malnourished self look even more sickly small. But there was a difference in her, her skin seemed to shine a bit more, and her grimy hair was clean and damp, hanging loosely and no longer a tangled mess. She looked a bit more like her old self.

"You look…clean." Draco said intelligently, and Hermione grinned.

"Why thank you. I consider that to be a compliment. You, on the other hand, look as if you could use a good shower." She passed him, patting his chest for emphasis. With a start, he realized he still didn't have a shirt on. Hermione laughed at his shocked expression.

Childishly scowling at her, Draco stepped into the bathroom. Although not quite as extravagantly vast as what he was used to at the Manor, it was well sized, equipped with a shower, a bathtub, a toilet, and a sink.

Draco relieved himself first, and then began to strip off his dirty pants, stepping across the floor to turn on the shower. He slipped into the wonderfully warm water, allowing it to cleanse him of the dirt first. His body repeatedly thanked him as he rubbed the soap over himself. He had always liked to be clean.

Draco took a far lengthier shower than he normally would have, but it felt so marvelous that he didn't want to leave it. He found it effortless to forget about all the troubling things on his mind while the water ran down his skin, found it easy to pretend that nothing was wrong, that there was no such thing as Voldemort…

But he could not flee these things forever. Eventually, he had to face them again.

"Took you long enough," Hermione said sarcastically as he finally stepped out of the shower, pulling his dirty shirt back over his head.

"Yeah, well," Draco replied, watching her flip through a book that she must've found in the room somewhere. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Yes, actually." Hermione responded without looking up. "I was waiting for you. Harry came up when you were in the shower. He said he told the rest that someone was here that they wouldn't believe, and that he had already questioned them so they needn't worry about us being fake."

"Sounds good," Draco said, and at last, Hermione's face rose and she looked up into his eyes. Soundlessly, she stood.

"You'll come with me, right?"

The words had been on the tip of his tongue, the 'maybe I should stay here', he had been so close to saying them, but curse her, curse her neediness because how could he say no when she looked so desperate, how could he say no when she relied on him?

Draco nodded. Hermione smiled and marched to the door, opening it and turning to wait for him to follow. He obeyed like a disgustingly loyal puppy, and before he knew it, they were walking down the stairs, they were about to face who knew what…

Hermione stopped right before they would be visible to the many voices coming from the dining room. Draco glanced at her face. Apprehension, tension, and…fear? Without thinking, he took her hand in his own, the only reassurance he could possibly give. Her eyes found his and she beamed, grateful for this tiny act of compassion. Without hesitating any longer, they stepped off the final step together and into the sight of many pairs of stunned eyes.

Had he truly expected them to leap to their feet and run to Hermione with open arms, crying and laughing and rejoicing? Had he truly thought they would be so accepting with just a few questions, like Potter?

He had been right about one thing: in one moment, everyone had jumped to their feet. There were cries of anger, protest, and…was that fear? Yes, fear laced into the screams of the people who had just witnessed a Death Eater and someone they believed to be dead walk into their room. Wands were immediately out, there were bellowed cries of get back!, and Potter was suddenly in front of them, when had he gotten there? His arms were extended much like Hermione's had been only last night, he was shouting at them, commanding, was he the leader? Wands were slowly being lowered, and after the initial chaos, Draco was able to take in faces. Every Weasley, Lupin, Mad-Eye, that girl that had been the Beauxbatons champion, was that Tonks? Wasn't he related to her? Some Aurors he recognized simply because they were Aurors, McGonagall, Slughorn, Flitwick, Sprout, even Snape sat there, the only one that had not jumped to his feet, and there were students from Hogwarts, Longbottom, Lovegood, Lavender Brown, Finnigan, Thomas…and even more that he could not recognize…

"Harry…" Remus Lupin had his hands up, as if coaxing some beast, slightly stooped over, and as shaggy as ever, "please, just back away from them…"

"Look," Potter began, ignoring the werewolf, "I know this doesn't seem possible…but I asked her questions. This is Hermione. And Malfoy…he freed Hermione from Azkaban."

Ah, touching. The Boy-Who-Lived was sticking up for him.

"Harry…" Lupin was still talking as if speaking to some creature that was about to go wild. "I know how you would want to believe this…but think reasonably…we saw her body! She's dead! _That _is not Hermione Granger, as much as we would all like to believe it…"

Potter shook his head angrily. "I asked her questions only she would know! And she knew them!"

"Voldemort could've tortured it out of her…"

"If Voldemort knew the answer to what I asked her we'd all be dead! Trust me!" Potter turned to Weasley, who Draco noticed had lost all color and been simply standing there, transfixed. "Ron, listen…it _is _Hermione, you can just tell, because I know that's how I felt."

The red-head took a few tentative steps forward, but then his eyes fell on Draco, and he shook his head vehemently. "Why would _he _want to free her?" Ron accused, pointing a finger at Draco. Draco scowled. Could they not believe that deep inside he was a good person? Well, guess not.

Potter's green eyes met Draco's, and for a moment, he seemed unsure. "We'll just have to let them tell the story."

"You don't even know!" Lupin said angrily, his hand extended as if to point out the obvious: these people are evil.

Hermione's hand had been tightly gripping Draco's this entire time, and for a quick moment, he glanced at her expression. She was staring at them all with a very Hermione-ish expression, as if wanting to rip all of their heads off but hug them and kiss them and cry at the same time. How could they not see that it was truly her?

For the first time, Snape stood. It seemed to hush everyone into silence, and everyone stared at him expectantly, waiting. Draco knew exactly what he was doing. He was probing their mind, poking around for any lies that would point to what everyone seemed so eager to believe. And then, after a very tense moment, Snape said, "Unless this is the Dark Lord himself we are dealing with, as only he could force me to see such a story, they do not lie."

There was such intense silence that Draco felt a bit awkward. And then, breaking it, Ron stepped forward, his eyes wide, his expression hopeful, he so truly wanted to believe…"Hermione?" he asked, and Hermione nodded, and then Draco was torn from Hermione's hand as there was such a rush of people he had to take a step back, and all of them were trying to get to Hermione, to touch her, to speak to her, and all of them were crying, crying so emotionally that some were even sobbing so loud it was almost unendurable.

No one was paying attention to him anymore, no one cared, he was not loved, he was not missed, he was not needed…

But then Weasley was there, glaring at him with hard eyes and such hate, how could so much hate be directed at one person? And it was directed at him, the enemy, detested and scorned, isolated…

"If you lay a hand on her, if you dare touch her, if you dare betray us, I swear I _will_ find you and I _will_ kill you." The words were said through gritted teeth, the anger in his words so immense, and Draco believed him.

Draco could see Potter over Weasley's shoulder, glaring at him with the very same childish grudge, had he not just been on his side moments ago? But no, he had only pretended to be as to gain the others' trust. Draco had been used and tossed aside like some old ragdoll, he had only been there to rescue Hermione, and now he was useless, now he could be tossed aside and discarded. It was just like after he had helped rid the world of Albus Dumbledore; he had done his part, and then afterwards he had been so utterly useless.

And he, too, felt a hatred for his two past enemies surge within him, a familiar hatred that could possibly never go away, how dare they judge him, how dare they pretend like they knew him! His eyes narrowed and he stiffened defensively.

And out of nowhere Hermione was there, next to Draco, her hands on her hips as if scolding a naughty child. The room had fallen silent and everyone was watching them, staring, waiting to see what would happen next.

"Stop it," said Hermione fiercely. "The both of you," she added, glancing at Harry. Both of the boys' eyes softened immediately, and Draco felt such a surge of affection for the girl standing next to him that it was sickening. Had anyone in his life truly ever stood up for him? Who would've thought it would end up being Hermione Granger. "He's on our side, and you two better get over your stupid grudges. They're in the past. This is the present. We're all fighting for the same cause: to defeat You-Know-Who. So put it behind. That goes for you, too, Draco." Hermione said suddenly, turning to glance at the blonde standing next to her. "Now shake hands." Hermione demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

There was a moment where the three glared at each other and it seemed that the handshake was not going to happen, but then Potter, ever the hero, stepped forward and extended his hand. For a long instant Draco only stared at it, then, ever so slowly, he lifted his arm and grasped the hand of his enemy's. And then Weasley, somewhat defeated, followed suit.

They would all pretend to be allies for Hermione's sake. They would all put on a fake smile for Hermione's sake. Because, although the three of them had an innumerable amount of differences, they did have one thing in common: there was most likely not a thing that they would not do for the girl watching them with a grand smile.

Something else was running through Draco's head, however. Something far away from the cheery, bright little room where peace had returned and once again there was a crowd around Hermione. Somewhere where someone whom he admittedly loved very much could be in danger in her very own home.

His mother.

By leaving in such a frenzied haste, Draco had left his mother behind to the consequences. And in all the excitement that had happened lately, he had not spared much thought to it. But he knew that Narcissa would be questioned for his whereabouts, tortured, and possibly even killed.

He had to get to her before they killed her. He would not let her die.

* * *

**A/N: On a side note, did anyone go see A Very Potter Sequel? Ugh, I wish I lived nearer to where they performed it! I hate having to wait until July to see it on YouTube! And if you don't know what I'm talking about, go watch A Very Potter Musical on YouTube. Now. :)**


	12. Heroes

**A/N: I am sooooo very sorry about how long it took to get this chapter out! I don't even have a good excuse like 'I've been extremely busy', because I really haven't. I just had the biggest writer's block I've had on this entire story. I wrote the first two paragraphs of this chapter and then just sat on my chair and stared at it, completely unable to come up with anything else. But I finally got it done! I have in my head where I want this story to go and what's going to happen on the way there (which I'm quite excited for!), it's just been difficult getting there. But I do plan on finishing this story :)**

**Thanks to RoseRedMisery, Ceylon, Hartwi1, dizzydazzle, and for reviewing last chapter! You guys are amazing and are what make me sit down and force myself to write :)**

Chapter 11: Heroes

Draco ran a hand through his hair. It was all conversation with these people. All they did was talk and talk and talk. Molly Weasley had cooked an overly generous meal specifically for Hermione and Draco, and they had sat around the table to eat. Hermione was telling their story in crisp detail while the others hung on her every word, not even allowing themselves to take an eye off of her for fear she might vanish. She had indulged herself already, having not eaten such a large meal in a very long time. Most of the time she was talking through a mouthful to the rest of them, but they did not allow herself to fall silent for too long, wanting to hear her voice as much as possible before they woke up and found it was all just a dream.

How could he slink off without them noticing? They were dubious of him already, if he just vanished they would surely notice, and would not be too accepting of him when he returned. They would think he had gone to rally information with the Death Eaters. And if he announced where he was going, Hermione would want to come, and he couldn't allow that. He could not always watch out for her, he had something else to do, something else to worry about now. She could jeopardize the whole thing. And if any of the Aurors chose to do it themselves, they would most likely fail and his mother would be killed. They did not know the interior plans of the house; and telling them would waste far too much time.

Molly Weasley kept setting plate after plate in front of them; not taking a moment to rest. The food was good, Draco would admit. It had a bit of a different edge to it than the house elves cooking that he was so used to, although he could not place it. She was also carefully polite to him, making an attempt to fit him in the talking. The others were just throwing hesitant glances at him, thinking he would not notice, but he did.

Draco fidgeted, rubbing his hands together underneath the table in overwhelming apprehension. He wanted so badly to get away, but he did not know how, his mother could be suffering at that moment and he was busy worrying about himself…

Draco could not help but notice Snape eyeing him from the other side of the table. Oh shit, he had forgotten to keep his mind closed. Wasn't that supposed to be a habit by now? He was not supposed to feel safe enough to close his mind to other people. He was not safe here. Hermione was safe here.

At that moment Snape rose from the table, beckoning Draco to follow. Everyone's eyes followed the pair curiously, and Snape addressed them. "Please excuse Mr. Malfoy and I, I'd like to have a word."

Draco followed Snape into a corridor far away from prying ears. "We will set up a team and go after her tomorrow." Snape said suddenly, not even bothering to apologize for wrongfully invading his mind.

Anger roared in Draco like fire. He had been hoping that Snape would have a plan to get him out of here! "Tomorrow will be too late!" He hissed. "I must go now. And a large team will attract too much attention!"

Snape's eyes narrowed and he looked incredibly annoyed. This time here must not have softened him up any. "Do you think the Dark Lord is foolish? He will expect you to return, he will have traps set up!"

"I'm pretty sure I know my house better than Him!" Draco half shouted, half whispered. Just standing in this hall was wasting time! Suddenly, he was struck with an idea. "Fine. Fine, just send your stupid party out tomorrow and let them all get killed, along with my mother. Whatever." He turned to stalk off in what he hoped to be a very convincing angry stomp, but Snape's hand grasped onto his shoulder and pulled him back.

Draco saw something in Snape's eyes that he was not sure he had ever seen before, and he was slightly afraid because of it. "You know…" Snape began, with the air of incredulity, as if amazed at himself for what he was about to say. "I am…quite…proud, that you chose this path. I did not expect it in the son of Lucius Malfoy."

"Don't be," Draco growled, wrenching his arm from his grasp and turning his back on his former Potions professor.

He was no hero. No one could call him that word. Heroes had great courage and strength and did everything for the sake of the good. Draco had been merely dragged into this mess and had been unable to break free. He had saved her for the sake of being able to live with himself. He had saved her to save himself. What kind of a hero was that? He was still dark and cold inside, scarred by the hideous scenes that he had witnessed that still haunted him in his very nightmares. He was no hero. He was just a kid that hated death and for that mere reason had prevented it. Hell, he feared death! Heroes were not supposed to fear death.

Potter was a hero. Potter did everything to save others without a thought of his own safety. Potter would take an Avada Kedavra for his dearest friends. And for that very reason Draco hated him. Draco hated that Potter was everything that he wished he could be. Potter was the hero of the entire Wizarding World. Potter was the epitome of goodness. Potter was a hero with his fucking morals and his stupid I must save the world attitude. Potter was a fucking hero and he was a sniveling coward that hid in his own fear, drowning in it until he was sure he would suffocate under the weight of his own cowardice.

But his mother was all alone, with no one else to save her, because no one loved her like Draco did. He was quite sure Lucius would not make a rescue attempt for fear he would lose his own life. Draco would not make that same mistake.

**:::**

Silently and stealthily, Draco pulled back the covers from his body, stepping lightly onto the floor for fear of waking Hermione. He was just to the door when her cold voice broke the chilly silence.

"Going somewhere?"

Draco did a slow-motion turn to face her. She was sitting up in the bed, the covers over her legs, her arms folded across her chest. "Just…thirsty." He lied pointlessly, knowing that somehow, Hermione had found out.

"Right. I heard you and Snape earlier. Draco," Hermione bounded from the bed in one fluid motion, resting her hand on his arm. For a moment Draco simply stared at it. "You aren't going without me."

This was not supposed to happen. She was not supposed to be dragged into this. "Hermione, you aren't going." Draco said firmly, sure that there was no hesitance in his voice. Hermione's eyes instantly narrowed.

"Not going? You can't do this alone, Draco!"

"I can, and I will!" Draco shouted, coming to the only answer to his problems that he could think of, as Hermione was looking no where near backing down. He put on an angry face, which was honestly not that hard, and firmly took Hermione's shoulders. "I'm not going to bloody watch after you all the time! I can't go around worrying that you're going to be killed when I have something to do, because it's quite obvious you're prone to getting caught!" He saw the hurt in her eyes, and went in for the kill. "You're so stupid, you know that? You're just a stupid little Mudblood!"  
Her arm instantly dropped to her side, and Draco's insides did a little backflip. No, he didn't mean it, she must realize that he was just saying it so she would not want to come….

"Fine," Hermione grated out harshly, turning her back on him and crawling back into the bed without even looking at him. "Fine, and see if I care if you go and get yourself killed."

Although he much wanted to tell her it was all a lie and she surely must not believe him, Draco turned his back to her innocent form and exited the door. He crept down the stairs to the entrance, regret surging within him, but he was so very close, Mother, I'm coming…

"You didn't have to say that to her."

Draco whirled in the dark, and sure enough, comfortably reclining in one of the chairs as if he completely belonged there, was Potter. Draco's eyes narrowed in confusion. "How-"

"My room's right below yours. Really thin walls. And you didn't have to say that to her."

"It was the only way to get her to stay here." Draco responded angrily, fury in him that Potter would question his actions.

"Well it's not going to work on me. I'm coming." Potter stood, his arms crossed firmly over his chest, clearly stating the obvious – he wasn't going to back down. Draco cursed in his head.

"Potter, look, I know you don't want to go to help me. You just want to make sure that I'm not reporting to the Dark Lord. Save it, I'm going to save my fucking Mum." Draco said the last sentence in a hiss, moving closer to Potter until he was almost completely in his face. It gave him an almost overwhelming reminder of the days of Hogwarts that he had a thrill of excitement.

Potter didn't back down one bit; his expression staying impassive and slightly angry. His face was much harder than it used to be, Draco realized. The boyish innocence of a kid trying to make it through the world no longer existed. It was in all of their faces. Pain. They had all been through far too much than any kid should have been. Why did this have to happen to them? "I'm not going to say you're wrong, because you're not. I'm coming. I'm not going to make another mistake in my life. I'm not going to lose anyone else, and if you're here to take it away, I'll kill you."

Murder had once been something so terrifying; the untouchable thing that no one wanted to even associate with. It tainted one's soul, the act of murder, and it was overwhelmingly difficult to deal with. The fact that you, yourself, had taken away a life, had made someone breathe their last, had stomped out their life so easily. One could not even comprehend the pain that one felt inside when they murdered. It ate away inside of them, took over them, took over their nightmares and thoughts and everything that made them who they were until they were scarred. It was as if the ones they had killed only remained to haunt them so that they would never forget their terrible deed. And, looking into Potter's very eyes, he could see that Potter had killed. One murderer to another, staring each other down, hate seeping in their very souls, one fact in common: they were both murderers, and it haunted them both.

"Fine. But if you get caught, don't think I'm going to come back for you." Draco spat out, and Potter nodded. Together they stepped out into the night, darkness encircling their tainted souls, and without a word Draco took Potter's arm and Disapparated away from their safe haven.

**:::**

They landed a good distance from his house, Draco being fearful that they would have set up spells to alert them if anyone Apparated within a good distance. He crept through the darkness underneath the Invisibility Cloak that Potter had brought. The proximity of their bodies was slightly uncomfortable, but at least they could not be seen.

For a long while they walked in silence, the only sound to accompany them being their feet crunching softly against the leaves underneath them. There was almost a chilling silence, as if the night knew it needed to be especially silent so that they could slip into the mansion in the distance.

Before long the Manor loomed over them in an almost menacing way. All of the windows were darkened and it appeared to have been long since abandoned. He could feel the questioning glance burn in his back from Potter, but they both knew better than to speak.

Draco led Potter around to the back of the house, far away from the entrance, and up to the giant wall that circled the Manor. Jerking his head up to the wall, he attempted to convey the message that they would have to climb it. Potter's eyes slightly widened in question, and Draco knew what he was thinking: surely they've at least set up a Caterwauling Charm? Draco shook his head. He knew what Potter did not: this portion of their land was impervious to such Charms thanks to a nifty little spell that his father had discovered. He had somehow known that one day the Dark Lord would most likely take over their house, and he had ordered some of the House Elves to do a series of complicated magic that resulted in part of the grounds repelling magic.

Draco removed the Invisible Cloak off of his shoulders, knowing that they would not be able to climb with it remaining over them. Potter nodded at him, and simultaneously they casted Disillusionment Charms to blend themselves into the landscape. Having done this many times, Draco set his foot in a crack in the wall and hoisted himself up. His fingers dug into the slightly weathered rock and supported him as he lifted his body to the top. Slightly wondering when his life had come to this, he turned to extend an arm to Potter, who took it with a slight grunt. Draco hoisted the Boy-Who-Lived up, and together they slid down the wall to the Manor's grounds.

Draco darted across the lawn, careful to stay in the safe grounds. The grass was growing slightly; it wasn't perfectly short and manicured as it most often was. He knew that something was wrong.

The two dark forms dashed through the lawn undetected. Draco pressed himself against the back wall of his Manor, pressing a hand to the cool brick. Potter hovered over his shoulder, slightly out of breath. Noiselessly and swiftly, Draco tapped his wand to the brick and muttered a quick spell. The brick instantly began to deteriorate to his touch, creating a tiny hole just large enough for a person to squeeze through. Draco glanced at Potter, who nodded. Now that the danger they were in was obviously quite real, it seemed that Potter knew Draco had been telling the truth after all.

Sucking in his breath, Draco squeezed his body through the little hole and crawled a tiny distance until he could see light. He pulled himself out, ducking into the shadows in case anyone was near. The little cellar that the hole led into was quite empty and utterly dark, and Draco turned around to help pull Potter through the tight squeeze.

Potter unraveled the Invisibility Cloak and threw it back over them. His wand squeezed so firmly in his hand that his knuckles were turning white, Draco opened the door leading to the kitchens. It swung open ever so slowly, and Potter and Draco squeezed themselves through the crack, glancing around their surroundings.

Only the house elves remained in the kitchens, most of them sleeping. The two boys slipped past them easily, and Draco led Potter out. They poked their head out into the main hallway, adorned with chandeliers and giant pictures of past Malfoys. Two hooded figures paced down the hallway, slightly veiled in shadows, almost stopping Draco's heart. So the house wasn't completely unprotected. Both Draco and Potter slipped their wands from under the Cloak and simultaneously cast nonverbal spells, dropping the two Death Eaters without a sound. In another instant they had thrown off the Cloak and both dragged the men into the kitchens where they hopefully would not be discovered. Potter threw the Cloak back over them quickly, and once again they were on their silent way.

Unfortunately they had to navigate the larger of the Malfoy's two living rooms to get to the dungeons. The room was filled with an alarming amount of Death Eaters, each of them aware and ready for any slight movement, pacing almost every inch of the floor. Knowing that they would most likely not be able to take down all of the Death Eaters without them alerting others, Draco and Harry tiptoed through the room, their breath sucked in, weaving around the Death Eaters as if it were a maze.

Draco led the way behind the couch all the way to the doorway, where a Death Eater paced like a stealthy cat. How were they possibly supposed to open the door without causing suspicion?

As if he had known the solution all along, Potter pointed his wand and muttered, "Serpensortia," so low that Draco almost didn't even hear him. There was a flash of light that Draco was terrified the Death Eaters would see, and then a snake flew right into Potter's hands. Draco paled a significant amount. Potter hissed something low that sounded suspiciously like he was talking to the snake, and then he lowered it to the floor where it hissed and slithered right past the Death Eater pacing the floor to the center of the room.

"Oh, shit," the Death Eater said loudly, trying to stomp his boot on the serpent but failing miserably, and successfully attracting the attention of the rest of the Death Eaters. Some of them gasped and shrank back, and some of them laughed at the others' fear, until one carelessly flicked his wand and muttered, "Avada Kedavra," uncaringly. The snake hissed one last time and stilled, and not one of the Death Eaters noticed the door to the dungeons open and shut silently, the two boys that the Dark Lord most wanted slipping right by their very faces.

* * *

**A/N: So this was originally supposed to be much longer, but it was getting a little lengthy so I decided to end it here. Hope you guys forgive me and review! **


	13. Enemies Become Allies

**A/N: So I'd say this is a relatively quick update :) Hope you guys like it!**

**I GOT ONE HUNDRED REVIEWS! *throws confetti* Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, I love you all! Thank you to , DaisyMaeEvans, Leanora, Hartwi1, Tiadorable, SpiritGirl183, and dizzydazzle for reviewing last chapter! And also to all the people who added this story to their favorites and alerts! Thank you!**

Chapter 12: Enemies Become Allies

Draco could hardly contain the excitement that was threatening to explode from his chest as the two flewdown the stairs that led to the dungeon. That had really done it! The most unlikely team, Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter, Slytherin and Gryffindor, Death Eater and Chosen One, working together to reach a common goal.

They were greeted by utter darkness when they reached the bottom of the staircase, and also a deafening silence save one rattling breath that stretched into the noiselessness like a heart breaking cry for help. Draco whipped out his wand and threw off the Cloak in one deaf movement, whispering, "Lumos!" Instantly light sprang to the tip of the wand, illuminating the Malfoy Dungeons, and falling on the dignified face of Narcissa Malfoy behind the very bars of her own house.

She had a few bruises and scratches that littered her face, the evidence of torture, and anger roared in Draco, screaming _Punish! Revenge! _but not yet. Time for that would come. Draco stepped forward and the light fell completely across Narcissa's face, causing her to jump a little and look up into the silver eyes of her son. Instantly a fond smile lit her features and she whispered softly, "My son."

Draco stepped forward, gripping the bars that separated them so hard his knuckles turned white, shaking a bit and fighting back the smothering sense of relief at seeing her alive, so overwhelming that he could feel tears beginning to brim in his eyes. His mother reached through the bars and eliminated the space between them, resting her hands on his, smiling through her own tears. "I knew you would come, Draco."

"I wouldn't leave you here." Draco whispered through a haze of pain, wrapping his fingers around her hands. "I'm sorry. This is my fault." So many things had been his fault lately. Too many things.

His mother shook her head wearily. Draco had never seen such outright emotion in the normally reserved Narcissa. "No, no. Not your fault. I knew it was coming. But Draco," Narcissa straightened and her grip on Draco's hands tightened, almost painfully so. Her eyes swam with a whirlwind of emotion, and Draco almost felt that if he looked hard enough, he could see what pain that he had caused her in her eyes. "They killed him." His mother whispered, her eyes wild and crazy, "they killed Lucius." Narcissa slumped back down again, her shoulders shaking with sobs.

Draco supposed he should've felt some kind of emotional response to this news. He should've felt grief, he should've wept like his mother for the father that had been everything to him. Strangely, he did not feel anguish, but instead he did feel a mind-numbing sense of guilt. He had caused the death. They had killed him because Draco had run away. Another death on Draco's hands, more blood to taint his already unclean soul. He had caused so much death now that he could truly be counted as a Death Eater.

"Malfoy," Draco started, having slightly forgotten that Potter was even there. Narcissa's eyes widened in surprise at her son's unlikely companion. The boy had been keeping his respectable distance, but now he felt it was time to interrupt. "C'mon, we should hurry and get out of here."

Draco nodded, and was suddenly struck with an idea. "If we call in a house elf, can they Apparate us out?"

Narcissa silenced her sobs long enough to choke out, "That was the last thing they made Lucius do before they killed him. They o-ordered him t-to tell the house elves that they couldn't come to get any of us o-out."

Damn. That would've been an easy way out, but now they had to take the nearly impossibly route. Potter's Invisibility Cloak was unfortunately not large enough to cover them all, so slipping past the Death Eaters was an impossible task.

"We'll have to fight our way out." Potter said, as if having read Draco's mind, his fists clenched in determination to repay the men that had caused so much turmoil in his life. It did seem to be the only alternative. But there was a rather intimidating large number of Death Eaters pacing the living room, and they would not be able to make each one fall before an alarm was sent out. And then, only more would come.

"We have no choice." Draco agreed. He had to come to terms with the fact that getting out alive was a gamble now; they would simply have to go for it and hope that luck was on their side. They would have the element of surprise, which was a helpful factor. "Give me the Cloak." Draco commanded, and Potter agreed, tossing it to him. Draco turned to the cell and opened it with a spell that only the Malfoys knew that opened all the cells, then ushered his mother out, pressing the Invisibility Cloak into her waiting arms. "Put this over you, and when Potter and I create the diversion, get out. It will make you invisible. If we don't come out within five minutes, Disapparate far away from here."

Narcissa clutched the Cloak to her like it was her lifesaver (which, ironically, it was) and nodded, but not before wrapping her son in a bone crushing hug. He bestowed one upon her as well and tried his best to smile encouragingly. "You ready?" Potter questioned, and Draco nodded in response. Together they marched up the stairs, breathing deeply, knowing very well that this could easily get them captured and be the end of it all. The invisible form of Narcissa was behind them, and Draco sucked in a great breath of air as Potter rested his hand on the door.

"One…" Potter mouthed, his eyes narrowed, not even looking afraid. Draco was afraid, he did not want to be captured and tortured, he was sure the torturing would be quite painful… "Two…" Voldemort would be sure to attempt to torture the whereabouts of the Order of the Phoenix out of them, and he was sure that Potter would not breathe a word, but could he possibly keep it within himself while under torture? Perhaps, perhaps he could, to save Hermione… "Three!" And Potter was their very last hope, if he got captured all hope would be lost, and once again Draco would be responsible for the downfall of the Wizarding World…

The door burst open to Potter's hand and instantly the light blinded Draco, piercing his eyes so much that he had to squint to see. Out of pure instinct, Draco's arm shot out and a spell had collided with the nearest Death Eater's chest, his expression one of pure surprise before he met his end. He would never be getting up again; it was just another murder to add to his growing list. Potter was aiming to kill too, not Stunning, because this chance to eliminate as many Death Eaters as possible would possibly not come again for a while. The time for Stunning was over, and the time for killing was here. They were no longer foolish children, told that killing was an evil task only committed by the most heinous of creatures, they were adults trying to make it in a world where evil ruled and decisions had to be made to protect your own life instead of your innocence. It was either kill or be killed. But school never taught them those life skills. One had to learn it on their own, they had to figure out the evils of life on their own, and both he and Potter had figured them out. Kill or be killed; the rule of the evil world they lived in.

Three Death Eaters lay at their feet, and Draco felt his mother brush by him, invisible, safe. The alarm had been set off, now a steady, high-pitched screech reverberated in both boys' ears as they desperately tried to fight through the sea of Death Eaters. They were pouring into every doorway that led into the room, and each and every one of them were shouting something different.

"Get them! GET THEM!"

"Call the Dark Lord!"

"Don't let them escape!"

Draco and Potter simultaneously casted Shield Charms that spread out in front of them, each wondering the same thing: how were they possibly supposed to get out of this unscathed? The Death Eaters were not aiming to kill, but to capture, which was a slight advantage. Most of their spells were repelled by the Shield Charm. Suddenly, Potter cast a glance at Draco and muttered with a stoic face, "Sorry about your house."

Before Draco could even ask what the hell he was talking about, Potter pointed his wand at the ceiling and cried, "_Confringo_!" The ceiling exploded over them, the great chandelier falling with a huge crack to land on a Death Eater, who screamed as the glass shards pierced his skin. Draco ducked, ready for the impact and vaguely wondering how Potter thought they were going to get out of this when they, too, would be crushed, but the Boy-Who-Lived had thought ahead.

"_Protego_!" Harry shouted, pointing his wand above them in a quick movement, and the falling ceiling deflected off of his Charm. Getting his drift, Draco did the same, and soon the once glorious living room was a disaster area. Draco hoped his mother had gotten out in time, but inside he knew she had for they had given her plenty of time. The two boys bolted, skidding over the wreckage and for the door, their life hanging on how fast they could cross the room of debris. Some of the Death Eaters were shakily getting to their feet, temporarily stunned, but the others did not rise. Draco and Harry raced down the grand hallway, their feet pounding in accordance with their hearts, Draco leading the way to the front door, their main hope for escape.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Everything instantly became in slow motion, and Draco whirled around to see a Death Eater pointing his wand directly at them, his shoulders and face coated with dust so that he looked ghostly and a mad smile lighting his twisted feature, and he watched with cruel apprehension as the spell came in direct contact with it's target.

Potter stilled, collapsing to the ground in a heap as Draco kept running, putting a great distance in between them.

And Draco almost left him there, almost ran out of the mansion to save himself and stranded Potter there to deal with You-Know-Who and all the Death Eaters by himself, almost gave up the last hope for peace in a desperate attempt to get out alive himself. It was kill or be killed, and making a stupid effort to save someone did not come anywhere into that motto.

But something stopped him.

He was sick and tired of running away from the things that he feared. He was done with it.

Draco turned and in a flash of his wand the Death Eater pursuing him was down, his face pressed against the floor, never to rise. He dashed forward just as another Death Eater filed out of the room, so coated in debris that Draco couldn't even tell who he was, and it was too late, Draco's wand was down at his side and he was vulnerable, his act of heroism was lost because he could not save them now, he was going to die, but first he would be subjected to torture, his half-crazed mind wondered vaguely if Hermione would miss him...

There was a flash of light and the Death Eater flew backwards and collided with the wall, slumping to the ground in a heap of unconsciousness. Draco glanced around for his rescuer and saw, to his great astonishment, a little house elf with his hand raised and pure determination etched in its little features.

"Save the master! Save Mr. Malfoy from the monsters!" And in an instant every house elf he had ever owned came pouring from the kitchens and into the living room, each of them with pure fury lighting their faces, some even with wild delight. One stopped in front of Draco, who hadn't moved an inch in surprise, and bowed low, then valiantly saluted.

"Slinky hates those men who hurts us! We's all hates those men! We's going to get rid of them for Mr. Malfoy!" Draco nodded numbly, and shook his head as the house elf raced after its companions. He had never been especially nice to the creatures, but he supposed he had never been cruel to them either, as the Death Eaters had. His mother had said they made his father order the house elves to not Apparate them out, but they didn't specifically say they couldn't _save_ them...

Draco kneeled next to Potter and muttered, "_Rennervate_." Nothing happened, and for a terrifying moment Draco thought that the Death Eater must have gotten carried away and killed him, Hermione would never forgive him, oh shit...But he steadied himself and noticed the rise and fall of Potter's chest, so figured it must be some curse he did not know about. Draco placed his hands underneath Potter's armpits and heaved him over his back, calling out his thanks to the enslaved creatures that had just saved his life and making a mental note to reward them if they survived this ordeal.

Draco raced out the front door and into the grounds, the Caterwauling Charm still going off in his pounding ears as he exited the gate that marked the entry into their grounds. "Draco!" He turned and found his mother materialize out of thin air, and then grabbed her arm and Disapparated on the spot. He landed on the front step to the Order, which Potter had instructed him to do, the heavy weight on his back making him teeter backwards slightly. His mother placed a hand on his back and stilled him, asking, "Where are we?"

"Order of the Phoenix," Draco responded, opening the door and racing inside, hoping that there weren't any permanent effects of whatever Potter had been hit with. "Help!" He shouted, and as if they had trained for this moment the entire Order streamed in, the older of the group shouting orders as they assessed the situation. Someone took Potter from his back and carried him away, the mass group of people following that one person until he and his mother were left, forgotten, in the hallway.

Draco followed the people and his mother followed him, her eyes scrutinizing the entire house as she daintily stepped behind him, fixing her hair into a more elegant twist so she could be presentable as a guest in the household. Draco rolled his eyes and entered the kitchen, where Remus Lupin whirled on him and grabbed his shoulders, asking a steady stream of questions to ensure that they were who they said they were. Draco answered each, and when the werewolf was satisfied, he moved on to more pressing topics.

"Where were you?"

"My house." Draco answered calmly, refusing to back down.

"Doing _what_?"

"Rescuing my mother," he answered again, meeting the eyes of the werewolf and challenging him to call him a liar. Lupin must have seen the truth, for he relaxed a fraction and released Draco's shoulders.

"Can you tell me what he was hit with?" Lupin jerked his head in Potter's direction, who was lying on the kitchen table, Snape over him muttering some sort of spell as he traced his wand over Potter's chest where he had been hit with the spell. Weasley met Draco's eyes and glared at him, as if telling him it was Draco's fault. Ha, if not for Draco then Potter would still be lying in that room with the Death Eaters. Well, if not for Draco then they wouldn't have been there in the first place but…that wasn't important. Potter wanted to go!

Draco shrugged. "It was nonverbal. I don't know."

Lupin nodded as if he had suspected this and moved off to help Snape. In a flash someone had taken his place and suddenly Draco's cheek was stinging with pain and his head had swiveled around with the force of a painful slap. He brought his hand to his cheek in anger, but when he looked down into Hermione's brown eyes swimming with tears his fury melted away in an instant. Her eyes were narrowed in outrage and the tears leaked out of her eyes, and Draco fully expected her to stomp her foot. He had another strange desire to reach forward and wipe the tears from her eyes, just as he had wanted to do in Azkaban, but he restrained himself. There was no hate in her eyes, he noticed in relief. If there was hate he would've been able to detect it, having received a hateful look from her many a time.

Hermione moved and Draco recoiled, slightly afraid she was going to slap him again, but instead she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him tight against her. He was too shocked to return the gesture and she pulled back all too soon, her lower lip jutting out as if she was containing a wail. "Don't you ever do that again." She hissed, jabbing her finger into his chest and refusing to meet his eyes for fear he would see the weakness there. "I thought…I thought you were both going to die."

"Hermione…" Draco began, fully intending to tell her that he had only said the words to get her to remain behind, but she cut him off.

"I know. I know why you said it." She whispered, so low that only he could hear, and then she moved away to kneel next to Harry's side, watching her two previous teachers work and taking the Boy-Who-Lived's hand.

He was filled with overwhelming relief that she understood and did not hate him for what he had said. He could feel the piercing gaze of his mother in his back and turned to glance at her. She raised her perfectly sculpted eyebrows in question, the edges of her mouth tilted up in an inquiring smirk that only a mother could produce, but he ignored her, instead focusing his attention on Potter, who was stirring.

"Here, I'll find you a room." Draco said to his mother, leading her up the stairs to get away from the people who were cooing over the injured hero like he had taken a hit for someone else. Draco eventually found a room that appeared as if no one occupied it and his mother threw her arms around his neck in a rare gesture of love.

"Thank you, Draco." She whispered into his neck, and Draco awkwardly muttered that it was no problem. She then told him she thought she would rest for a bit, and he retreated to his and Hermione's room to be alone, refusing to go downstairs into the packed room of people.

He could hear the festivities downstairs and figured that they were throwing Potter an all out feast, but he instead lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The door to his room slowly opened and light streamed in, and he could hear the laughing voices downstairs. He lifted his head, fully expecting to see Hermione to demand he come and join in and already readying his argument ("I'm too tired"), but instead found himself looking into the emerald green eyes of Potter. He sat up slowly, wondering what he had to say.

"I just, err," Potter looked down at his feet for a moment, but then locked eyes with Draco again. "I wanted to say that I'm sorry for doubting you." Draco's eyes widened for an instant. "And…thank you. Thank you for saving Hermione. Without you she would probably be dead. Thank you, Draco."

When the words thank you had first left his lips Draco had been expecting him to thank him for saving his life, but he was shocked at what he had said, and also thankful. No one had yet thanked him for his deed except for Hermione, and he felt he deserved a bit of thanks for putting his neck on the line for someone he previously hated and who previously hated him. The use of his first name had not gone unnoticed, either, but he was not quite ready for that. "No problem, Potter." He smirked, leaning back against his pillows.

"We make a pretty good team, huh?" Potter said with a little laughter in his voice, grinning at his former enemy. "Who would've known?"

"Hmm, the Slytherin and the Gryffindor. I'm still better than you, though." Draco quipped, his silver eyes dancing with laughter at his own joke, staring at the boy that stood in his doorway. Potter grinned.

"Oh, of course. You should come down for a while. Ron's mum got yours to come down, and I think she's a bit uncomfortable." He laughed slightly, and Draco grinned, imagining his mother sitting in the corner with her fork raised daintily and eyeing the people around her with a distasteful eye for their outright happiness and lack of restraint. "Fred and George got some firewhisky. No idea where they got it, but hey, who's complaining?"

Draco grinned, resting his arms behind his head in nonchalance. "Yeah, maybe in a minute."

Draco's former enemy nodded and disappeared out the door. Former enemy. It was an odd thing to think, that he and Potter could now be seen as allies. He found no hate for the Boy-Who-Lived any longer. The jealousy that had brewed inside him when he was younger had dissipated, because he no longer wanted the life that Potter had. Who would possibly want to live that way? And now he knew that both of them could easily look past their differences and learn to work together, and surprisingly, Draco didn't mind. They were allies. Could they even, possibly, be friends? Draco shook his head, wondering what the world had come to that made a Slytherin and a Gryffindor learn to get along, and got to his feet and slipped through his door to join in on the party downstairs.

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**A/N: Awww, friends :) In my opinion, Draco and Harry were destined to end up allies, just as Draco and Hermione were destined to be together. Too bad they didn't :( Review!**


	14. Leap Into the Darkness

**A/N: Another quick update! I hope you guys like this chapter, it was kind of annoying to write...but hopefully it came out alright :)**

**Ahh 120 reviews! This is ridiculous! Thanks you guys! Thanks to Tiadorable, Lycoris Brightwater, Leanora, personofnoconcern3000, Hartwi1, SpiritGirl183, Purpledaizi626, iilovefallingstars, and dizzydazzle for reviewing last chapter!**

Chapter 13: Leap Into the Darkness

The happiness and laughter surrounding him faded to black as the sudden pain in his left arm burst into his complete awareness. The laughter generating in the direction of the Weasley twins suddenly sounded like hideous screeching and he pressed his hands to his ears to block it out, but the pain only seemed to increase. He distantly heard a shocked scream that sounded suspiciously like Hermione's and the screeching laughter ended immediately, and just as quickly the pain in his arm faded and he dimly became aware that somehow he had fallen to the floor.

He pushed himself up and unconsciously rubbed his arm, glancing up at the shocked and worried faces of his companions. Hermione was by his side, a steadying hand on his back as if she were afraid he would topple backwards again, and Potter had stood up in his seat to get a better look at him sprawled out on the floor. His mother had her hands pressed to her mouth, but her eyes told him that she knew what had happened. The other occupants of the room were simply staring at him with small hints of concern in their eyes. Did they all truly care for his wellbeing? Every single one of them? Were they not supposed to be enemies? The only one with suspicion still in his eyes was Ronald Weasley. Draco and the Weasley had not yet formed a bond and vaguely Draco wondered if he ever would. He seemed to be the least trusting of them all.

Draco glanced up at Snape, who had only grimaced and pressed a hand to his left arm. Feeling slightly embarrassed that he had let the pain shock him so badly, Draco stood, mumbling that he was alright. Everyone then glanced at Snape, who said simply, "The Dark Lord is calling a meeting."

Draco did not miss the significant glance that was thrown across the table from Potter to Weasley. In an instant they had stood. Potter motioned to Hermione to follow, and much to Draco's surprise, he waved over Draco as well, then turned and left the table without a word, walking up the stairs. Molly Weasley slapped her towel down from where she had been cleaning dishes, clearly showing her displeasure at them holding secret meetings, but Ron ignored his mother and followed Potter. Glancing at Hermione, Draco did the same, the last two trudging up the stairs to Potter's room and ignoring the accusing glares of the adults at their backs. It was quite obvious that they knew they were not invited to this secret meeting and resented it.

When Draco entered Harry's room behind Hermione, Potter and Weasley were already in a flurry of action. Harry was throwing things into a small rucksack, and Weasley was doing the same, gathering all sorts of items. When Draco entered, Ronald stopped and stood up, eyeing him accusingly.

"Are you sure about inviting him?" Weasley said, not bothering to cover the obvious distrust in his voice. Draco stiffened, narrowing his eyes as Hermione rolled hers.

"Really, Ronald, that's enough."

They fell into silence again, and Draco noticed that Potter had not even looked up at Ron's accusation. He was concentrating on his task of gathering the majority of his belongings. Hermione seemed to be at a loss of what they were doing as well, and raised her eyebrows as she crossed her arms. "What's going on? Are we going somewhere?"

"We are," Potter said, finally locking eyes with his friend and motioning to the three boys. Draco's eyebrows rose, knowing that Hermione's reaction was not going to be very accepting of this.

"_What?" _All three boys winced at Hermione's shrill scream. "You are not leaving me behind, Harry Potter!" She screeched, stepping forward to poke her finger in Harry's chest. "I'm sick of being left behind by _all_ of you!"

"Hermione," Potter said, grabbing her wrists and looking into her eyes with far too much pain for a young man. "Look, I won't risk you being caught again. I'm not going to risk it."

Hermione glanced over at Ron, who pointedly avoided her eyes. She then glanced up at Draco, who returned her gaze bravely, telling her with silent words that he agreed. Wherever they were about to go, it apparently was going to be dangerous, and Draco wasn't even sure if he wanted to go himself. "You can't all do this to me." Hermione whispered, her voice breaking. "You never leave me behind. We're a team." She pleadingly looked back at Potter, who was still holding her wrists. Draco's eyes were drawn to Weasley, who was stuffing an actual _sword_ into a rucksack, where it disappeared down into the bag. His eyes widened.

"That's the point, Hermione." Potter whispered. "I won't let us get broken up again."

It was obvious that neither of them were going to back down. Hermione's eyes were narrowed and she absolutely refused to stay behind, and Potter's eyes were large and pleading.

"So he gets to go and I don't?" Hermione shouted suddenly, pointing a finger at Draco, who involuntarily took a step back. He did not want to get into the middle of this. Ron glanced up from his work at that moment, as if agreeing with Hermione and waiting for Harry's response.

"Yes. He does." Potter said simply, and Hermione set her lips in a hard line. She ripped her wrists from Harry's grasp and folded them underneath her chest. "Look, Hermione, I need you do to something for me while we're gone." He said softly, as if this would tempt Hermione into staying. She didn't respond, so he went on. "We've destroyed four of the six Horcruxes. There's only Hufflepuff's cup and Nagini left. I need you to stay here and figure out a way to get to Nagini."

"I can figure out a way to get to Nagini with you!" Hermione screeched, her voice raising again as she beat her fists on Harry's chest. Draco was glad he was not on the receiving end of her fury for once.

"No, you can't. It'll take research, it'll take planning, and you're going to need quiet to figure this out. It's going to have to be fool proof, Hermione. Only you can think of a plan that good." Potter made a brave attempt at a smile, and Hermione scrutinized him for a moment. "And we need to leave someone here to be able to continue destroying the Horcruxes in case something happens to us. Hopefully we'll only be gone a few hours."

Her eyes roved from Harry, to Ron, and rested on Draco. "Be careful." She whispered as her final content. "Watch each others' backs." She commanded, glancing at Harry. "And don't die."

Harry grinned, pulling her forward and enveloping her in a hug. "We will."

Hermione's eyes began to brim with tears as she wrapped her arms around Potter and closed her eyes, allowing the tears to fall down her thin face and to her chin. Potter reluctantly released her, and she moved to Ron, bestowing him with the same crushing hug. He, too, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "We'll be fine." He muttered into her hair.

Finally, Hermione rested her eyes on Draco. He shifted uncomfortably, and she leapt into his arms, her lips centimeters from his ear. He returned the gesture awkwardly, allowing her to melt into his body with a sigh of worry. "Be careful." She whispered so softly that only he could hear, her warm breath tickling his ear. He smiled reassuringly as she pulled back, and without another word, she stalked out of the room and closed the door behind her.

"What's going on?" Draco immediately asked, completely confused as to what Horcruxes were and why Potter needed to get to Voldemort's snake and something of Hufflepuff's and destroy them. Was he off his rocker?

Potter turned his gaze on Draco from where he had been staring at the door. "Horcruxes are pieces of Voldemort's soul. As long as they exist, we can't kill him, so we have to destroy them before we ever even face Voldemort." Draco's mind whirled. Pieces of soul? Was that even possible? "That's what I was going into Hogwarts for that day in Hogsmeade. Look, we'll fill you in on the way there, we've got to hurry. That is, if you want to go. Your choice."

Potter hefted the rucksack up on his shoulder and Weasley did the same. Draco surveyed them for a moment. He wasn't itching to go, but the obvious trust in his decision coming from Potter made him finally nod. They exited the room together and Draco reluctantly followed, unsure of what he was getting himself into. He didn't particularly even want to go, but something was telling him that this could be the chance to do something right, to fix all the mistakes he had made, to do his part in helping the Wizarding World.

The crossed by the kitchen and immediately the werewolf stood, but Potter shook his head without making eye contact and the three of them walked straight out of the door into the cold night. With a nod, Harry grasped both Weasley's and Draco's arms and turned on the spot, taking them away from their safe haven and into the unforgiving night.

They landed in a dark forest, Potter immediately going to work and setting up enchantments around them to hide them as he filled Draco in. "We're guessing there's a Horcrux out here somewhere. We're near Little Hangleton. Voldemort's been moving his Horcruxes around from what we can gather. I think he's figured out that we're looking for them. For instance, we were absolutely positive of the location of the Cup and went to retrieve it, but it was gone. There were traces of Magic though, so we think it was there at one point. Now we think it's in the home of his parents, where he made his first kill to turn a ring into a Horcrux, but that one has already been destroyed. We figured he may have begun to set up guards, but if he's called a meeting, then that means they're all at Azkaban. So that's why we've come here now. We'll have to try and retrieve it as soon as possible, before anyone who may have been guarding it comes back."

Weasley had stayed silent during Potter's explanation, but now he lifted his ginger head and gazed away into the distance to where Draco suspected the house must be. "We should start heading over there."

Potter nodded, and from his pocket he produced three bottles of some murky liquid. "The Invisibility Cloak won't be big enough for all three of us, so I got some Polyjuice Potions. We'll just look like Muggles."

Draco crinkled his nose but obediently took the Potion. He watched the other two down it like experts without even cringing, so he lifted the glass to his lips and drained the liquid. It was revolting and Draco had to fight back a cringe. He glanced down at his skin, which appeared to be bubbling. It was quite a disgusting look, and he was worried about how this was going to turn out.

After the transformation, Draco felt his face. His skin felt rough and coarse; no longer smooth. He felt his chin, and discovered he had quite a lengthy black beard. He glanced at his companions, they, too, had undergone complete changes in their entire bodies. Potter looked like an old, wrinkly man with white hair, and Draco had to fight back a laugh. Weasley had taken on the appearance of a fat, bald man. His clothes stretched dangerously over his expanded belly, and Potter snickered as he glanced at him. Weasley glared murderously, hitching down his pants so they fit a bit more properly.

"We should hurry," Potter said, his voice shaking dangerously. It was Weasley's and Draco's turn to laugh as he tried to cough the oldness out of his voice and failing miserably. Potter shook his head and straightened his naturally curved back. "Shut up. Let's go."

They scampered through the forest until they came upon a small village, a sign hanging above them that cheerily announced 'Welcome to Little Hangleton'. The largest house perched on a hill, and without having to ask, Draco knew that was their destination. It reminded him faintly of the Malfoy Manor, due to its size and the way it loomed on the hill. They strolled through the town as inconspicuously as possible, the cheery inhabitants waving at them as they passed, but then shadows falling over their faces as the three men's destination was made known.

There was a long, winding road up to the house and they walked up it in silence. There was no need to speak, they each knew the dangers they were about to face.

"There will be enchantments to guard the Cup." Potter said as his hand rested on the door to the mansion. He glanced at Draco and Ron. Weasley nodded, urging him on, and Potter took a deep breath, pushing open the door.

They were greeted by utter darkness. Potter went first, then Weasley, and Malfoy took up the rear, all of them holding their wands out in front of them. The house was eerie in its very own way. Spider webs graced the many pictures that adorned the walls, and Draco realized they were pictures of Muggles. The eyes didn't follow them as they tiptoed down the hall, and he felt as if he was in a daze. Voldemort's parents…they weren't Muggles, were they? He was sure Potter had said this was the house of his parents…perhaps they were mistaken?

He could feel the tension rolling off of Potter and Weasley in waves, and he knew why. The build up to coming to this house had been enormous, but so far it seemed as if was unprotected. Perhaps they had been wrong in guessing the location of the Horcrux?

"Well, well, well…" The voice made the hairs on the back of Draco's neck stand straight up, and he tensed, his spine arching in foreboding as the person he least wanted to see stepped out from seemingly nowhere to block their path. "And what are Muggles doing in this house? Did you not see the Keep Out sign? Oh, Muggles with wands? How interesting." Bellatrix Lestrange sneered evilly, her teeth glinting in the light like fangs, her eyes shining with the promise of punishment.

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**Sorry about the cliffhanger...I couldn't resist :) Hope you liked it!**


	15. Don't Look Back

**A/N: So now that it's summer I'm having an easier time writing these chapters. And they're flowing better, so hopefully writer's block isn't going to strike anytime soon!**

**Thank you sooo much to: Lycoris Brightwater, Hartwi1, .MyLife, Leanora, Erica, NJ, Tiadorable, and Ceylon for reviewing! Every single review brings a smile to my face! Everyone has been incredibly nice and it really does make me want to update faster! I swear! I hope you guys like this chapter! *Crosses fingers***

Chapter 14: Don't Look Back

Hermione hugged her knees to her chest on the bed she and Draco shared, pressing her nose into the crack between her two legs. It was the only place she could escape the constant questioning of the Aurors. They wanted to know where Harry, Ron, and Draco were and they were sick of her brushing off their questions. The only one that didn't ask was Snape. Lupin had taken to completely shunning Hermione, glaring at her and dropping comments that made her feel increasingly guilty, accusing her that if they died some of the blame would be placed on her because the Aurors could possibly help them. They always received the same answer, though: Dumbledore told us not to tell.

She had the horrible sense of foreboding and could not seem to force herself to concentrate on the task Harry had left her. She hated not being able to be by her boys' sides and help them get out of the sticky situations they would no doubt fall into. Getting the Cup was not going to be an easy task, she knew, and she was terrified for their wellbeing.

The door to her room opened and Hermione felt a surge of anger and didn't even bother looking up, screeching, "I'm not going to say anything!" into her knees. She glanced up when there wasn't a response, and found herself looking into the light blue eyes of Narcissa Malfoy. Hermione instantly straightened and mumbled a hurried apology.

"Please," Narcissa said softly, stepping into the room and sitting down on the end of Hermione's bed. "I just want to know where my son is."

Hermione found herself lost in the despair in the older woman's eyes, and instantly felt compelled to tell Draco's mother everything, but she knew she couldn't. "I'm sorry." Hermione whispered. "I can't."

Narcissa bowed her head. Hermione was surprised to see Narcissa so vulnerable, and talking to her like she was a human being worthy of her attention. She was a Mudblood; the symbol of everything the Malfoys hated. Perhaps the years had changed Narcissa just as they had changed Draco?

"I'm sorry," Hermione said again, fighting back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her at the other woman's pain.

"Do you care for him?" Narcissa asked suddenly, raising her tear stained face to gaze into Hermione's with such intensity that Hermione could not look away. "Do you care for my son?"

"Yes. I do." Hermione replied without question.

"He cares for you." Narcissa straightened herself, fixing her hair and wiping away the tears that were threatening her normally dignified composure. "I can tell." She tried to wipe the steady flow of wetness spilling from her eyes, but they just kept coming. Narcissa began to become frustrated, turning her back to the Muggle born so that she would not see her weakness.

"It's alright to be afraid." Hermione said quietly, knowing what Draco's mother was going through. "It's alright to worry."

"I know that." Narcissa unexpectedly snapped, turning her head to glare at Hermione, who shrank back at the woman's ferocity. "I know that." She said again, except this time her words were punctuated by sobs, and Hermione leaned forward, not exactly knowing how the woman was going to respond, but wrapping her arms around Narcissa anyway, allowing her own fear for the safety of her loved ones to leak out of her eyes in the form of tears. To Hermione's surprise Narcissa melted into her arms and sobbed loudly against her body, crying out, "He's my only son, you must understand, I've already lost my husband, I can't lose my only son."

"I know," Hermione whispered, trying to be soothing and encouraging while she was undergoing the same gnawing fear that something had gone horribly wrong.

**:::**

Draco was sure that everyone around him could hear the painful beating of his heart as it threatened to burst from his chest. The black-haired woman stood before them, twirling her wand on her fingers and grinning maliciously at them. "Lost, are we?" She questioned, and laughed at their lack of response.

In a movement much too fast for the eye to see, Weasley shot a spell at the unsuspecting Bellatrix who was barely able to conjure a Shield Charm in time. She had suspected them to roll over and play prisoner for her, but it seemed they had a bit of fight in them. In another movement Potter had whipped out the Invisibility Cloak from his bag and flung it around himself, becoming completely invisible. With a roar of rage as she realized that these were no ordinary Wizards, Bellatrix shot a spell where Potter had been only moments before, but it hit nothing.

Draco felt betrayed. So he and Weasley were left here to deal with Bellatrix in all her fury while he got to run off with the protection of invisibility? Weasley seemed as if this was expected, so Draco figured that this had been the plan if something of this magnitude were to happen. They could've told him!

Weasley fired another spell at Bellatrix, who returned her attention to the two 'Muggles' in front of her, locking in a duel with the both of them. Draco did his best to help out Weasley, but the two had their eyes locked on one another and all the spells Draco sent were carelessly knocked away. Ron had gotten loads better at dueling apparently, and Draco was a bit shocked at the ferocity. He eyed the hallway apprehensively. Bellatrix was blocking the way that led further into the house, and the only other escape was out. Draco's legs commanded him to run, to leave Weasley behind and save himself, but once again he could not force himself to condemn the other.

He was of no help in the duel going on between Bellatrix and Weasley, but could not get by her to look for the supposed Horcrux without getting hexed. There was a door a little ahead and on the right, but he wasn't sure if he would be able to make it in time, and he was a bit uneasy leaving Weasley to duel with his aunt, no matter how much he had improved.

And then Draco was struck with an idea. He pointed his wand at the ceiling above Bellatrix, and before she could react, shouted, "_Confringo_!" The ceiling above her caved in and she screamed as debris fell on her head and temporarily stunned her. Draco darted into the room to the right, Weasley close behind, and they bolted up a set of stairs into another dimly lit hallway. They were met by another cloaked Death Eater and Ron took care of it easily, the Death Eater being much slower. They darted into the room it had been guarding.

"Over here!" The strange voice made both Weasley and Draco jump a foot in the air, but they turned to be met by the floating head of the Muggle that Potter had taken the form of. "Follow me!" He hissed, and his head bobbed down the hallway. It was eerily odd to be following a floating head, but Draco tried to push that feeling from his mind, fear overriding him and making it partially hard to breathe. "Get under the Cloak," Potter commanded Draco, and Draco obliged. "Guard the hallway." Harry commanded Weasley, who nodded grimly.

They slipped into a room where at least five Death Eaters lay dead on the floor. Potter flung off the Cloak and showed him a floating Cup, shrouded in a green mist and eerily hanging over its dead guards. "I think you can get it if you have a Dark Mark."

"You think?" Draco hissed angrily, staring at the Cup with a sense of foreboding. "It could kill me! And besides, You-Know-Who knows I'm with you, why would he do something so stupid?"

"I doubt he's had enough time to change it since you joined us. And it would need to be taken by the Death Eaters guarding it in case it needed to be moved." Draco gulped, staring at the Cup in fear. "We have to destroy it or Voldemort can't ever be destroyed, hurry!" Potter said quickly, urging him forward.

Taking a deep breath, Draco reached out but hesitated at the edge of the mist. Glancing at Potter, he sighed, then reached through the hazy protection. His fingertips felt the edge of the Cup and he pulled.

As soon as the Cup left the protection of the mist the loudest noise Draco had ever heard pierced his eardrums. He brought his hands to his ears and shouted, but couldn't even hear himself. Weasley entered the room with his hands clasped against his ears and threw nervous look over his shoulder and yelled something, but neither of them could hear what was spoken. Draco released his hands from his ears and was shocked to see blood. He thrust the Cup into Potter's hands who took it and threw the Invisibility Cloak over himself, beckoning them to hurry and get out before he was completely hidden from view.

It became obvious that the house was coming down around them. The very ceiling shook and seemed as if it would give out at any moment as they practically tumbled down the stairs, closer to the entrance. Something shattered around them but they could not hear it for the loud wailing that was causing their very ears to bleed. A chandelier crashed in front of Draco and he leapt it, bursting through the door and into the open. He could feel his skin morphing back to his original self and his clothes felt looser, his skin smoother, and there was red hair in front of him instead of gleaming bald. Draco knew that their hour was up and they had turned back into themselves. The wailing was becoming quieter as they ran but it was still impossible to hear their surroundings.

He did not hear the scream of fury behind him. He did not hear the shocked cries of Harry. He turned to the left, seeing the exit, and unknowingly shielding Potter from the hex flying in the direction of Potter's feet that weren't covered in their haste to make a quick exit. Something compelled him to turn and look behind him, watching the house crumble and the demented Bellatrix following them. He did not hear the whizz of the spell as it collided forcibly with his chest, sending him flying backwards. He did not hear Potter yell at Weasley as he flung off his Invisibility Cloak and threw it over Draco. He did not hear Weasley's shouts as he kept the demon woman at bay. He did not hear Potter as he lifted him up and carried him to the gate. He did not hear Potter's command to Weasley to get out. He did not even hear his own screams of pain.

But he did feel the pain. It exploded across his chest like fire and made him scream in agony, clawing at his own skin and trying to rip out the fire that was trapped in his chest. He kicked and thrashed in Potter's grip, tears pricking his vision, awareness leaving him, and finally falling into the blissful darkness.

**:::**

Harry felt a horrible sense of pure terror as Malfoy went limp in his arms, his endless screams fading around them as they burst through the gate. He could feel the invisible blanket lift off of him, and he turned on the spot to Disapparate into the dark night, Ron right behind them. They left Bellatrix behind, who was screaming obscenities and shooting hexes at their disappearing bodies. Harry barely caught a glimpse of the proud house on the hill completely collapse around itself as the horror around him faded from view.

They landed on the safety of the step into Grimmauld Place in one piece and Ron immediately burst open the door, Harry stumbling after him with his burden in his arms, fear inching it's icy way up his body, terrified that the body in his arms was nearing death, and feeling the guilt attach itself to him, it was his fault, Draco hadn't even really wanted to go, but he had pressured him into it, and he had thought that the Death Eaters would be gone...The Aurors that had been eagerly pacing the hallway looked up in a mix of surprise and relief, but it soon turned to horror as Harry pulled his Invisibility Cloak off of Draco, revealing his unconscious body hanging chillingly limp in Harry's arms.

"Give him to me," Harry was, for once in his life, relieved at the sound of Snape's voice as his former Potions professor swept by the dumbfounded Aurors and hefted Malfoy into his arms. Once the body was out of his grip, Harry reached in his pocket and indiscreetly passed the Cup to Ron, who disappeared up the stairs to immediately dispose of the Horcrux as soon as possible. He then followed the group of people as they filed into the kitchen, watching Snape set down Draco's alarmingly limp body on the kitchen table, which had recently taken to being the hospital bed. Harry surveyed his former enemy, a feeling of dread forming in the pit of his stomach. Draco looked horribly pale, even more so than normal, and his mouth was foaming slightly at the corners. Every now and then he would give a heart-shuddering twitch, and then fall still once again. The thought that any breath could be his last did nothing to quell Harry's desire to run to the bathroom and empty the contents of his stomach. Death was reaching its clutches towards its next victim, and Harry did not think he could bare to see more death. He had already seen far too much, and also been the cause of it.

Snape ripped open the front of Draco's shirt, revealing a blackened scar in an odd star shape that spread across the middle of his chest. There was a heart-stopping moment where Snape and Lupin made eye contact, and then the most piteous wail reached Harry's ears.

"My son! What's happened to my son?"

Narcissa Malfoy entered the room, her arms flailing about and trying desperately to get nearer to her boy, lying in the middle of the room, as a few Aurors held her back.

"I'll need to make a potion." Snape addressed Lupin, who nodded gravely and swept out of the house to most likely gather ingredients that weren't on hand. Snape departed the room for a moment, then reentered with a cauldron, ignoring the wails of Narcissa.

Hermione trailed in only moments later, her large brown eyes wide in obvious fear and staring at Draco, lying on the table, in horrible shock. He looked so broken, so vulnerable, that for a moment she was afraid he was dead, and she felt bile rising in the back of her throat.

"Get her out of here." Snape commanded harshly, leaning over Draco's scar and muttering a low incantation that sounded as if it was in another language. Narcissa's cries pierced the ears of those around her, but Hermione seemed oblivious to it, stepping forward towards Draco with disbelief etched in her features. The chaos around them was unnoticed by her as she continued to reach for Draco until a firm hand clasped around her arm and held her back. Not caring who it was or why they were holding back, Hermione continued to struggle, trying to reach Draco, because he _needed _her, didn't they see that he needed her?

"Get her out!" Snape yelled again, this time much louder, and it pierced Hermione's ears like a siren.

"Hermione, get back!" She was now aware that Harry was pulling her away from Draco, and she stopped struggling, glancing up at him with wonder at how this had possibly happened. "Get her out of here, Hermione! Do you hear me? Get her out!" He yelled at her, pointing at Narcissa, and giving her a little shake to wake up her brain that seemed to have shut down. Hermione blinked, once, twice, and then nodded silently, her mouth hanging slightly open, retreating away from the moving crowd and taking Narcissa by the arm. The older woman struggled, screaming, but Hermione pulled her back, away from her son, who lay, unknowing of her fear.

Narcissa finally objected to being pulled away and quieted, and Hermione led her to the room Malfoy had taken her to. She sat down on the bed and Narcissa wailed, throwing her head against the bed and screeching her worries into the pillows. Hermione silently rubbed soothing circles in her back, her eyes staring ahead, unseeing, shock enveloping her and suffocating her until the very act of taking in air seemed impossibly difficult.

The full gravity of the situation had not yet hit her, and she could not seem to find the tears within herself to cry. Why cry? Draco would be fine, just as Harry had been when he had been brought in, carried by Draco. This situation was just reversed. He would be fine. There was no need to worry. No need to cry. No need to be afraid. She just had to sit here until Harry came and told her he was alright and she could see him. And then she would slap him for allowing himself to get hit by a curse in the first place. I mean really, couldn't he dodge, or produce an effective Shield Charm?

Hermione was not sure how much time had passed since she had first entered Narcissa's room, but she knew it had been a while. Narcissa had quieted and Hermione had not stopped continuously staring at the wall in front of her. Hermione could no longer hear the chaos going on downstairs, or she had long since tuned it out. She wasn't quite sure. She knew someone would come get her when Draco was awake, and then all would be back to normal.

There was a knock at the door and Hermione said nothing as it opened a crack, and the voice of Harry said, "Hermione, come out here. Let me talk to you." She did not register the graveness in his voice and was ready to go down and see Draco, sitting up and alive and well. She stood and stepped out of the room. Harry softly closed the door behind her.

He looked paler and more tired than she had ever seen him. He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands and took a deep, shaky breath. His arms fell to his sides and he finally locked eyes with Hermione. Hermione gasped, her heart stopping in her chest. His eyes looked like those of a lost child; at a complete loss of where to go and who to turn to and what they could possibly do to find their way back home and away from the danger of the world. He looked...scared. It was the best way to describe it.

And that was when it hit her. She could see it in Harry's eyes; see the truth, the hideous, black truth. Hermione felt as if something was being ripped out of her and she resisted the need to fall to her knees and vomit all over Harry's shoes. "Tell me how he is, Harry." She commanded, her voice betraying her fear at the words she was about to hear, tears pricking at her eyes. "Don't you lie to me." For the first time the panic rose in her chest and she had to fight to keep it at bay, her hands trembling at her sides. She felt as if her entire heart had been ripped out of her chest and let out a loud, piercing howl at her best friend's next words, spoken brokenly and in a whisper.

"He's dying, Hermione."

* * *

**A/N: I'm sorryyyy! I seem to have a fondness for cliffies :) I just love leaving you guys hanging! Hope you guys don't kill me! I love you all! Hehe, review? **


	16. Hold on to Me

**A/N: This chapter is extremely short, but I felt that where I ended it was a good place. It took a little longer to get this one out, sorry about that guys!**

**Thank you very very very much to potatocrazy4, Tiadorable, Lycoris Brightwater, kitty-kat-vamp, Ceylon, EmoPrincess21, Dazzler56, Hamataroo, Quello Bella, teamswitzerland08, Hartwi1, cmc, and NJ for reviewing! I have 144 reviews! *squee***

**And to potatocrazy4: Don't worry, I wouldn't do that :) Nothing against it, but it's just not very realistic, and I want my story to be realistic, at least for the Potter world anyway!**

Chapter 15: Hold on to Me

"He's dying, Hermione."

Hermione's body completely froze, her entire system shutting down as she unblinkingly stared at the Boy-Who-Lived for any traces of deceit. He was lying; oh he was trying to see if she truly did care for him, or maybe see if now that she thought he was dying that she would tell him Draco had not changed, because he still did not trust him! It would not get by her, she was not one to be fooled, she was Hermione Granger, smartest witch of her age!

"You're lying." She had meant for the sentence to sound sure and strong, but instead it came out small and clearly terrified. But no, she could not back down now, she would not let this lie affect her!

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I really am. I'm not lying to you. I wouldn't."

Oh, he was playing it good now, but he was a fool and she was brilliant, he could not lie to Hermione Granger and expect to get away with it. She shook her head, and cursed herself for allowing a few tears to fall down her cheeks. "No, you're lying. You're lying!" She finally screeched, flying forward and beating her fists against his chest in fury. "You're lying, he's fine, tell me he's fine! DON'T LIE!"

Somewhere in the back of her head she dimly registered that she had most likely lost her mind, but she no longer cared. Seeing that her fists were doing absolutely no damage to his chest, she reverted tactics and took to trying to swing at his face. He realized her motives and caught her wrists easily, and she struggled, attempting to get away from him, the liar, the deceiver.

The entire world crashed in around her and she could no longer breathe. She collapsed on the floor in a panic and heard sobs echoing from extremely far away; only slightly aware that they were coming from herself. She took to beating her fists against the floor instead, refusing to believe it, refusing to believe the horrible truth. Harry crouched next to her and put his arms around her and heaved her into his lap, pressing her face against his chest. She wrapped his shirt in her fists and wailed into his chest, attempting to pretend that it was not Harry but Draco who she was clinging to.

He had saved her life, took her from the cell, helped her to recall everything she had forgotten, and now as punishment he was being taken from her. He could not go, she needed him, oh how she needed him, more than he probably knew. If he went away she would be lost again, alone, and her nightmares would plague her without his warm presence by her side, without his protection. She had lost everything, her parents, her home, and she had vowed she would allow no one else to be taken from her, but now he was being stolen. He was her protection, her asylum, and without him she would be exposed to the darkness of the world once again. He could not leave her, he _would_ not.

**:::**

The first thing he saw was Snape. The Potions Master was sitting in a chair right across him, looking solemn at best. Draco had never seen Snape look something even remotely near sad. That's when Draco knew.

The second thing he saw was the thing on his chest. The black star-shaped scar was about the size of a Snitch, maybe a little larger. He ran his hand over it; the texture was rough and wrinkled.

"It will spread across your chest until it reaches your heart." Draco glanced up at Snape, who had spoken without moving an inch. He didn't exactly know how to react to this news. Was he supposed to scream? "This is a Dark Magic I have never encountered. There is no known cure."

So that was it. He was dying. The one thing he had always run from had now found him. He was dying. "How long?" He whispered, trying to sound brave and uncaring.

"One to two months."

He was dying.

Draco felt as if he was falling down a black hole, the darkness suffocating and pressing his chest until he was sure he was going to vomit. One to two months to live. "Will it hurt?" He asked, his voice small and begging for the truth. He sounded like a little child.

"Not until the final stages of the curse set in. But then, yes, it will hurt." The truth of Snape's words felt like a dagger in Draco's chest, and he almost wished the older man had lied to him. He felt small and vulnerable, with no one there to protect him and hold his hand and tell him that it was going to be ok.

He remembered his past fear of having a barren funeral. It was once a childish fear, but now it was in his face and screaming at him, counting down his minutes until death came and took and he was gone. Just gone. He wouldn't even know who came to his funeral, so why did it matter? He would be dead.

_He was dying._

For some reason, he did not want Snape to see his tears. So, he swallowed the enormous lump in his throat and tried to feel brave. He tried to tell himself it would not be so bad. He had died doing something right, which was far more than he could've said in his past. Perhaps he had not always feared death itself, but feared dying without having done anything worth being proud of in the world. Maybe he feared dying for nothing.

He knew Hermione was in the room before he saw her. He could feel her sadness, feel the despair rolling off of her in waves, and he looked up to meet her eyes. Her face was red and puffy, and she was wringing her hands in front of her nervously, a trait he had never seen in her before. He tried to smile but knew that he did not achieve his desired affect when she just sniffed louder.

The room was quiet as she stepped toward him. He sat up, his legs hanging off of the table as he watched her advance on him. She reached her hand out and slowly began to trace the edge of the blackened scar on his chest, her eyes clouded. He wished he could see into her mind. Was she afraid? Did she blame herself? Did she even care?

And then she looked up into his eyes, her face set in a determined glare. The sadness that was once present was gone. "I will find the cure to this. I will. You saved my life, and I swear to everything and anything that I will save yours. I swear."

Draco tore his eyes from her hands and looked up into her brown orbs of fortitude. She smiled, one of her tears leaking out of her large eyes, and the corners of his lips lifted slightly. He reached forward and wrapped his hands around hers, stopping their movement. "Come on," she whispered, squeezing his hands slightly, "you should come up and rest."

He obediently followed her, stepping off of the table and finding himself surprised that there was no sharp pain in his chest. Snape must have been right. It would set in in the later stages.

Hermione led him all the way to their room without once looking back to see his face. He partially felt she was trying to hide her own from him; to hide the doubt and fear. She finally faced him when they reached their room, sitting down on the bed and patting the spot next to her with a pained smile. He climbed into the bed and tried his best to ignore the tears steadily falling down her face. He was not sure if he should be incredibly happy that she felt so strongly about his impending death or horribly depressed.

He broke down. He could no longer contain the suppressed emotion roaring inside of him, he could no longer contain the sobs that were so desperate to tear from his throat, and he found that in the company of Hermione he did not care if she saw his tears. He was _dying_. He now was truly and irreversibly dying, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Hermione's promise of a cure did nothing to help; Snape had told him that there was none.

He expected to receive comfort from Hermione, but instead the same wracking sobs coming from his own chest began to escape her throat, and she threw herself against him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her face against his chest. He lifted her body into his lap and allowed her to cry out his own fears into his chest, wiping away his own tears as he gently rocked her back and forth in his lap. "I'm sorry, I-I'm so sorry." Hermione choked out. "I should've been there, I should've been there to help."

"Shh," Draco whispered, closing his eyes so he would not see her cry. He found the task of holding in his own sobs so much harder when she was crying against him.

"What made you change?" Hermione whispered against his chest, glancing up to look him in the eyes, as if suddenly this answer was all she wanted. He locked eyes with her for a moment in surprise, and he felt suddenly compelled to tell her the deep dark secret he had locked inside of himself and not told anyone. Perhaps it was the fact that he was dying and would some day have no one to tell. He wanted to whisper all his secrets to her and find solace in her arms. If he was to tell someone, she would be the one, and this would be the time.

"He made me kill her." He whispered so softly that he was surprised she heard him.

"Kill who?"

And now that the dam had broken he could not stop the river of words that spilled from his mouth. "H-he made me kill her, I didn't w-want to, he made me do it." Hot tears spilled down Draco's pale cheeks and he did nothing to wipe them away, as there was no stopping them now. Hermione said nothing, knowing he would continue. "He made me kill Pansy." Draco barely choked out, refusing to meet Hermione's innocent gaze and see the betrayal and disgust there. "He told me h-he'd kill me if I d-didn't do it. It was p-punishment for not k-killing Dumbledore. A-and she b-begged m-me not t-to d-do it, b-but I did, I k-killed h-her."

He could no longer contain the wracking sobs that coursed through his body, hardly allowing him to string together a coherent sentence. "I didn't want to die." He finally whispered brokenly, beyond ashamed at his own cowardice. It had meant nothing in the end, now he _was_ dying. Now that he was through confessing, he felt that he should have never begun. Revealing his darkest day to her would make her look at him with hatred. She would have died before killing a friend. She would've been brave. The very day still haunted him to no extent; the look in Pansy's eyes as she tearfully begged him not to end her life, as she hatefully accused him of once saying that he loved her. He had betrayed her. And Voldemort had laughed.

Draco refused to meet Hermione's eyes, afraid of seeing the hatred shining in their murky depths. But instead of hate he was suddenly pulled forward against her. She pressed a hand to the back of his head and allowed him to bury his face in her chest, and the sobs tore through his body. She stroked his hair, whispering, "Shh, it's alright," in the most soothing way she could muster. She kissed the top of his head and allowed her tears to fall in his hair, holding him tighter against her, trying to make all the fear disappear out of the both of them, trying to make it alright but knowing that she couldn't.

She knew she would stop at nothing to find a cure for Draco. She wouldn't sleep, she wouldn't eat, she would not rest until she knew he was going to live. In that moment, with their bodies intertwined as one, their worst fears being shared, she knew that she loved him. It was not a love from the romance novels she had once dived in, though. It was a love far too deep to be expressed in a novel. It spread warmth through her body and made her feel sad instead of happy. Was love not supposed to make one feel elated? That was what the books all said. That was what she had once wanted as a naïve child while watching Ron smile at her. This was not that kind of love. This love made her feel melancholy and disoriented. It was not a bad feeling, but different. This love she could not explain. They were connected in the mess that was war, they shared their pain, they shared their fears, and they shared their warmth.

Love was all one had to keep themselves sane in war.

* * *

**A/N: I know, it's short. Sorry! At least love is in the air :) Don't be afraid, review!**


	17. Home

**A/N: This chapter is pure and utter filler. You've been warned :) This isn't even what I originally was going to write after last chapter, but it just happened. I actually like this chapter even though not much happens, so I hope you do too! It's much lighter and happier than any of the other chapters I've written in this story :)**

**Thank you to LauraFlowi, Dani, Tiadorable, dizzydazzle, Ceylon, BelovedSaiai, Hartwi1, and Lycoris Brightwater for reviewing! You guys are much too kind to me! I never ever imagined getting this many reviews. Ever. And they are all so kind! Thank you!**

**LauraFlowi: I actually realized right after posting last chapter that I had neglected Ginny in this story. I love her too, so I am going to put her in more in the next few chapters! And Ron, too, because I haven't exactly been too kind to him yet. He will get his part as well!**

Chapter 16: Home

"Hello."

Draco glanced over at who the airy voice belonged to. Loony – er, Luna – stood next to him, her hands clasped behind her back and rocking on her heels, a far off smile on her face.

"Um, hi." Draco said awkwardly, going back to staring up at the sky. It was Christmas Eve, two days since he had been told he was dying, and the Weasleys had invited everyone staying at the Order to come and spend the next few days at the Burrow. The highest security imaginable was over the area so they were actually allowed to venture outside. At first, Lupin and Mad-Eye had been quite adamant against it, saying it was much too obvious, but they finally agreed when they were allowed to be put in charge of security. It had been quite stuffy in the Order, and Draco was enjoying getting the fresh air as much as possible. He had never exactly been one to love the outdoors, but the lack of it had lately been making Draco feel enclosed.

He had not told his mother of his nearing death, but he was sure she knew. She went out of her way to try and make him feel comfortable, and then after that would lock herself up in a room for hours. He did not want to know what she did.

Hermione was inside, currently playing with a little toddler named Teddy that was the werewolf's child. It had normally stayed at a hidden location with his grandparents that Lupin would not even tell Potter about, but he and Tonks had brought it along when many had requested so.

"Nice night, isn't it?" Loony said in a light voice, staring at the stars with him.

"Yeah."

He didn't quite know what to make of this girl. He had always known she was a bit off her rocker, but he had never personally spoken to her. He had not spoken to many of the people from Hogwarts that were in the Order. There was Longbottom, Weaslette, Loony, Finnigan, Thomas, and a few others. He mostly avoided them, knowing they did not trust him much and not wanting to have a private meeting with them. He had even avoided Potter and Weasley for the last two days, going as far as skipping meals and only venturing out to pick up a few scraps when he knew most people were gone. That was when Mrs. Weasley would cheerily fix him a plate, avoiding the matter of his death and acting as if it weren't even going to occur.

He had even been avoiding Hermione since that night two days ago. She, to the best of his knowledge, had been sneaking out of the Order to smuggle in books about Curses. He was even pretty sure she had confiscated some books from Mungo's, going there with blonde hair and green eyes and glasses to hide her identity. She would then study them at night in the corner of their room with her wand poised to read the information as he slept. They didn't talk about it at all; Hermione, like Mrs. Weasley, was speaking to him as if he were perfectly healthy.

"I heard about what happened." Luna's airy voice broke Draco from his thoughts. "I'm very sorry."

He glanced at her in surprise, and found nothing but truth in her eyes. She smiled slightly, swaying on her feet to some tune that he could not hear. "You shouldn't distance yourself from everyone, though. They all are sorry, too. Everyone trusts you, now."

Was she really giving him words of advice? She was Loony Lovegood! But something in her tone, some hidden wisdom made him actually force himself to consider her words. Perhaps wallowing in his own self-sorrow was not the correct way in going about it. He wouldn't deny that that was what he was doing; he knew it was. He felt sorry for himself. Every second that ticked away was a second less that he would be breathing in the air.

"If I were you, I'd try to live the last of my days to the fullest extent, not lock myself away from the people who care about me."

Draco was unable to comprehend this odd creature standing next to him as if they were best friends and had always been. "Care about me? The people here don't care about me." Draco scoffed, not quite sure why he was even saying this to Loony of all people.

"Hermione does." Luna said softly, watching his expression. "And I know Harry does too. He seemed quite worried and keeps blaming himself."

"Yeah, well, he should. If he hadn't dragged me in the mess to begin with I'd be perfectly healthy right now."

"Maybe." Luna said vaguely. "But then Harry would maybe be dead. Or Ron. And then you'd feel guilty, wouldn't you?"

Draco knew the answer to that: If Potter had died he would have felt guilty, as he knew everyone's hopes would've been lost at that point. They could very well have given up. He sighed, absentmindedly running a hand through his hair as he thought over Luna's words.

"I'm going back inside." Luna said with a smile. "You should come in, too. There's pudding." She turned and began to skip back off the door, Draco watching her with a bewildered expression. She really was something.

The door opened before Luna reached it and she stepped out of the way to allow Hermione to pass by her, leaving the two alone with a wave. Hermione walked to Draco, holding the baby Teddy in her arms affectionately. She grinned at Draco, who gently smiled back. "You should come inside. Everyone's asking about you." She said, setting the squirming baby down on the grass. He giggled, pulling on her pants leg to straighten himself and attempt to stand up. Draco watched the child with thinly veiled interest; he had never in his entire life been around children. The baby's attention turned to Draco, who he had not yet seen, and he reached out towards this new person. Hermione scooped the child into her arms before he could fall. "I think he likes you." Hermione said, giggling, as she pressed the child into his arms before he could even protest. He had never held a child in his life and was quite sure he was doing it wrong, especially from the fact that Hermione was laughing. Teddy giggled and reached forward to grab a tuft of Draco's hair and tugged, hard.

"Ow," Draco said loudly, pulling the child's hand away from his hair and scowling.

"You could at least hold him right." Hermione teased as Draco attempted to resituate the child in his arms, trying to remember how Hermione had previously been holding him. He mock scowled at her, and as if annoyed at how he was treating the person that held him correctly, the child reached up and tugged on his cheek. Annoyed, Draco passed the child back into Hermione's arms.

"I'd make a horrible father." He joked, watching the kid clap happily at being back in Hermione's arms. She'd make a great mother, obviously.

"No." Surprised, Draco glanced away from Teddy and into Hermione's eyes, which were swirling with something he couldn't identify. "You'd make a great father. I'm sure. You'd want to be different from your own father. You'd be better."

He almost said that it didn't matter because he wouldn't get the chance, but he stopped himself, sure it would offend Hermione and possibly send her away. He did not want her to go. He watched as she sat down cross-legged in the grass and allowed the child to crawl about gleefully, unaware that he had a smile on his own face.

He had never considered her to be beautiful before. But she was. She was in her very own Hermione Granger-ish way. Her bushy hair had somehow gone from being revolting to entrancing. He almost wanted to reach out and touch it to see if it was soft.

The toddler crawled forward and placed his tiny hands on Draco's shoes. He was amazed that something could be so small, so fragile. It seemed like one little wrong move from him would break the child, and he felt painfully nervous. "Sit down," Hermione commanded, and he obeyed. Teddy laughed and climbed the gigantic mountain that was his legs to sit in his lap, reaching forward to try and pull at his blonde hair again. Draco caught the child's arm before it could deliver another vicious tug. Hermione giggled.

"Come on. Let's go inside." She said softly, standing up and sweeping the child in her arms easily. He stood, too, and followed her in the brightness of the Weasley home. He had once often mocked Weasley for being poor and saying he must live in a shack, but the home, although small, was surprisingly comforting. It was a bright and cheery atmosphere inside, and Hermione led him in the kitchen, where everyone was packed around the table laughing. Hermione passed Teddy to his father and sat down in a vacant chair, patting another empty one next to her, where Draco uncomfortably sat. He was aware of all the eyes on him but kept his own eyes trained to the floor. There was a slight lull in conversation, but it picked up again as the group laughed at something Teddy had done.

Draco had often been at family meals. There had always been rules. Don't speak unless spoken to, sit straight up, do not make eye contact to your superiors, do not voice your own opinion unless it is the same as those around you. There were no rules at this table as people practically shouted over one another to be heard. There seemed to be ten different conversations going on, and it was pure chaos. The Weaslette was sitting in Potter's lap with a glass of firewhisky, laughing merrily as they watched the werewolf's child change the color of his hair from dark brown to blonde, as Weasley and his twin brothers put on a show with some fireworks that were created to be set off inside, as Mrs. Weasley and Narcissa engaged in discussion over something, as Luna and Hermione watched cheerily as Tonks changed her nose to a pig snout, as Mr. Weasley and Percy Weasley discussed something at the Ministry, as Fleur Delacour and Bill Weasley danced together to a tune on the radio, as Mad-Eye Moody hummed gruffly, as Charlie Weasley and Hagrid, who was bent over to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling in the corner, discussed something that sounded suspiciously like dragons, as Longbottom, Finnegan, and Thomas played a game of Exploding Snap, and it almost seemed as if there was no war, as if this was how it was supposed to be, not scared, not worried, but happy and cheerful. He had been passed a bottle of firewhisky and soon he found that he, too, was laughing with the others and that he was joining in on some of the conversation, and even laughing as Weaslette teased that he had made quite an impression on Teddy, who still was enjoying his new blonde hair.

This was what family was supposed to feel like. This was what friends were supposed to be like. This was what it was like to feel _home._

**:::**

The Burrow had six available rooms. Mrs. and Mr. Weasley had taken one, Bill and Fleur had taken one, Lupin, Tonks, and Teddy had taken another, Mad-Eye Moody had taken another, Narcissa had been given one, and Percy and Charlie had taken the last. This left Draco, Hermione, Harry, Ginny, Ron, Luna (she had said she could go home but Mrs. Weasley had immediately said no, as Luna's father had died long ago and she didn't want her to be alone), Fred, George, Dean, Neville, and Seamus to have the floor of the living room. Harry and Ginny had immediately claimed the couch, which earned much scowling and grumbling from the others as the couple snuggled on the couch with gloating looks of comfort. Draco was surprised Ronald didn't explode at seeing his sister and best mate so comfortable with one another, but he supposed it had been going on for some time.

Ron curled up on one of the armchairs and told Luna she could have the other. Seamus and Dean both claimed the patch of floor directly in front of the two fireplaces before anyone could blink, wrapped contentedly in their piles of blankets and basking in the warm glow of the fire. They, too, earned many scowls from the ones that had not yet found a decent place to lie down. Fred and George had somehow constructed two tents out of blankets and crawled inside, teasing the others that their brilliance was far superior to everyone else's as they disappeared from sight. Neville claimed the middle of the living room, leaving Draco and Hermione to a corner. They laid down several blankets and then crawled into the middle of them, shivering slightly and glaring at Seamus and Dean, who both grinned teasingly.

At first, Draco had wondered why all of them were here instead of with their family. He soon realized that most of them had had their family claimed by the war. Dean's parents were Muggles, and had been killed in one of the many Muggle onslaughts. Luna's father had died in a fire that had been set to their home by people who didn't support the Quibbler, and Luna had luckily not been home. Seamus' parents had moved out of Europe, and they had had a huge fight with their son, who had blatantly refused to leave, as he was a part of the Order. He had not spoken with them since. Neville's Gran-Gran had moved, too, but she and Neville had not had a fight about Neville staying. She, apparently, had been quite proud that her grandson wanted to stay and help to fight.

The fact of Draco's death had not been brought up once, and he was actually thankful. Once in his life, he had basked in the attention he had received for getting his arm 'broken' by a Hippogriff. Now attention was the last thing he wanted. He wanted to forget about it, but knew he could not.

"Goodnight everyone." Harry said with a grin as he pulled Ginny closer to him.

"Night."

"Sleep tight."

"Sweet dreams!" Fred and George's voice drifted from their tents in perfect harmony.

"Mmm, this fire is warm."

"Not as comfortable as this plush armchair."

"Shut it, Ronald." Hermione snapped good-naturedly, which earned many laughs.

"Go to sleep!"

"Geez, Ginny, someone needs their beauty rest."

"Well _someone's _got to be beautiful. Me, Hermione, and Luna must meet this standard as all you men fall horribly short." There was a shriek of laughter as Harry had obviously tickled a sensitive spot on her.

"Goodnight, Draco." Luna's airy voice sounded much calmer compared to everyone else's.

"Oh, er, night."

"Yes, _night, Draco."_

"Night, Draco!"

"Pleasant dreams, Dracy-poo." Draco scowled. He would have to get back at whichever twin that said that.

"Night Malfoy!"

"Weird to have you here, but goodnight."

"Good to have you here!"

"Well that's what I meant!"

"My Gran would probably have a heart attack if she knew you were here. I should write her and tell her."

"Yes, it is odd. My Mum told me your mum is actually quite pleasant-" Ginny was cut off by a roaring voice that probably woke the entire house.

"GO TO SLEEP!" There was thunking as their visitor climbed back up the stairs to their room. "It's like you all are five years old!"

"Night, Mad-Eye!"

"Moody sure is moody!" The twins snickered at their own joke. They all must have been delirious because the rest of them laughed, too, at the pathetic attempt at cleverness.

"Night, Mummy!"

Draco glanced at Hermione, whose face was red from laughing. Little tears were at the edges of her eyes, and he laughed with her. She shook her head and rolled her eyes at the antics of the others, and he grinned.

He had once hated every single one of the people in this room, and they had once hated him. He had hated everything about them, and he didn't even remember why. Perhaps because they weren't in Slytherin? Perhaps because they were friends with Potter? But it didn't even matter anymore. He found himself _enjoying_ their company, something he had never thought possible. They was nothing wrong with any of the people in this room. They were friendly, and had accepted him into their midst even after everything he had done to them.

Hermione's hand snaked out and took his own just as he felt himself drifting off into the blissful world of sleep where he did not know that he was dying just as things were getting better in his life. It was an act of comfort, of reassurance, that she was there for him through it all. That she would be there for him until the end.

This was what it was like to have people care for him. And he liked the feeling.

* * *

**A/N: Told you it was filler :) I hope you guys liked it anyway! At least it was cheerful!**


	18. Love Me, Leave Me

**A/N: This kind of took longer than expected to get out. Sorry, guys! Stupid writer's block :( But it's extra long to make up for the shortness of the last chapter and the wait it took to get this out. Hope you like it!**

**Hartwi1, potatocrazy4, BambixEyesx, Leafstar Skyclan, XxAvengingAngelxX, Love Me Some Lautner, dizzydazzle, Lycoris Brightwater, Leanora, BelovedSaiai, Ceylon, and LauriFlowi for reviewing last chapter! I'm glad you guys liked it!**

**XxAvengingAngelxX: I would be all evil and be like "No! You have to read and find out!" but telling you doesn't really reveal anything important haha so here's the answers to your questions: No, Ron doesn't like Hermione anymore, let's just say for the benefit of this story that they dated for a while and it didn't work out after Hogwarts (so cliche, but oh well!), he hated Draco because I figured that of the trio he would be the most likely to hold a grudge the longest, and your last question is hopefully answered in this chapter!**

**I don't like the beginning of this chapter too much, but I like the end :)  
**

Chapter 17: Love Me, Leave Me

Draco's Christmas presents had always been for a bit of a show. There was never any love or care behind the gifts that his father bought for him, or at least he didn't think so. It was a show of their wealth, and nothing more.

The presents that were being passed to him were not shows of wealth. In fact, most of the objects were incredibly cheap, but they were for him nonetheless. He was thoroughly surprised that anyone had gotten anything for him. He felt increasingly guilty that the only one he had gotten a present for was Hermione, because she was the only one who he thought would get _him_ something.

But the Weasley twins had gotten him a few things from their joke shop, and Potter and Weasley had both gotten him chocolate frogs and a few packages of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans. Hermione had gotten him an fancy-looking watch, which he had immediately put on at Hermione's insisting, and Mrs. Weasley had packaged him a few of what she had gathered to be his favorite sweets. His mother had gotten him the same thing she did every year: Apparently it was their tradition; to pass on gifts to everyone in the room. He found it odd and unfamiliar, weren't people only supposed to give gifts to people they cared about?

Hermione peeled away the wrapping on the gift he had gotten her, and he was pleased to see her gleeful grin as her eyes found his. He had taken great care in gathering the gift. He had ordered it from a Wizarding Jewelry Catalogue in a different name, and had it sent to a random Muggle house. He Apparated there moments after it was delivered and picked it up from the doorstep of the house, and then disappeared. He was sure that his movements were impossible to be tracked.

"Oh, Draco, this must have cost a fortune." Every eye turned to Hermione's gift, and Draco felt an odd sense of pride from the wide eyes. It was a necklace, and the charm was in the shape of a flower, which was fully encrusted in tiny diamonds. It _had _cost him a fortune, but what kind of man needed money when he was a month from dying?

"Well, put it on, dear!" Mrs. Weasley cooed, eyeing the necklace with a jealous eye. Draco had come to find that jewelry was a weak spot for most women.

"Could you help me, Draco?"

He heard the underlying tease in her voice, and suddenly found himself very nervous. It was just clasping a necklace around her neck, right? Everyone's eyes followed him as he circled around the table and took the chain in his hands and Hermione gathered her hair up and moved it out of the way. He fastened the clasp at her neck, and his hands lingered there for a moment longer than necessary, feeling the smooth skin on the nape of her neck, and her hair falling on his hands as she let it go. It _was_ soft.

He stepped back and Hermione touched the diamond necklace hanging perfectly on her chest, smiling brightly. "Thank you, Draco."

Mrs. Weasley had prepared a grand breakfast, as she always did, and the people around him were digging in in unison like a true family, talking about Christmas cheer and happiness. Such happiness can not last long in a time of war.

The door burst open and everyone jumped, glancing at their visitor. Kingsley entered the room, his robes askew and straightening his hat, surveying their party with a saddened eye. Everyone tensed at his expression, knowing some bad news was coming. Lupin stood, passing his baby to his wife. "No no, sit down, Remus. Everyone needs to hear this." Kingsley said in his deep, booming voice. Draco saw Potter wince. He had a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. Had someone died?

"I'm sorry to bring you this news on this day. There was an attack on St. Mungo's. Twenty Death Eaters. There wasn't enough protection. Twenty-eight Healers were killed trying to protect the patients, and sixty-seven patients were killed. They were looking for someone." In the corner of his eye, Draco saw Hermione's hand fly to her mouth and her eyes begin to water. "Mr. Longbottom," Kingsley said, turning to Neville. "I'm sorry."

Neville paled. Everyone seemed to understand this but Draco. They instantly crowded Neville with words of comfort, apologies flying out of their mouths. Hermione stood, and only Draco seemed to notice as she disappeared outside. He thought about following her, but decided against it.

Neville stood so suddenly that his chair flipped backwards and clattered to the ground loudly. Silence fell over them like a thick, suffocating blanket, and everyone averted their eyes as Neville disappeared up the stairs. Draco felt horribly left out as no one spoke, their eyes brimming with tears. He wanted to feel sad, perhaps to show that he was human, but he couldn't find it within himself. All he felt was an overwhelming relief that at least no one important to him had died. Perhaps he was still the evil, snobby Slytherin on the inside.

"Neville's parents were in Mungo's." Draco looked up, Potter was talking to him. "They were Crucio'd until they were insane."

"Oh." Draco said. What else was he supposed to say? He had a sinking suspicion that Bellatrix had had something to do with it, and Bellatrix was his aunt. Guilt washed over Draco, making it almost hard to breathe. It wasn't his fault, why did he feel guilty? Potter stood and said something about finding Hermione.

Moments later the door crashed open and Potter flew inside, looking paler than ever, his eyes wide. "She's gone. Hermione's gone."

**:::**

Hermione fingered her recently transformed blonde hair and repositioned the glasses on her eyes as she surveyed the absolute wreckage before her. Mungo's was practically in ruins. Rubble lay everywhere, and there were Healers darting about to most likely take care of the patients that still lived. Patients lay in some of the corners of the shattered floor since their rooms had been destroyed, moaning in pain, and she wanted to shut out the sound, to block it from her ears, but it was too loud, she pressed her hands to her ears and shut her eyes and wanted to turn and run, but she couldn't, this was her fault, the Death Eaters had been looking for her, it was all her fault…

"Excuse me?" Hermione squinted from underneath her eyelashes at an older man who looked to be a Healer gripping her shoulders. He gave her a gentle shake and Hermione immediately felt embarrassed as she let her hands drop to her sides. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm…is…is there anything I can do to help?"

He gave her a grateful look and directed her towards some patients who needed help being moved to their new rooms. She tried her best to smile, even though it wasn't quite the time for that, and moved to where he had directed, immediately getting to work.

**:::**

"I'm worried."

"You heard Lupin. She couldn't have been captured. She left."

"Where would she have gone to?"

"I don't know. You've known her for longer than I have, shouldn't you be able to guess?"

"You've known her for just as long as I have."

"Yes, and I terrorized her for the first six years that we knew one another. What a flourishing relationship we've had."

"Well, it's your own damn fault."

"Oh, really? I was under the impression it was her's."

Weasley whirled around to glare at Draco from where he had been walking in front. Their little Christmas party had split up to search any notable places for Hermione. Unfortunately, Draco had been paired up with Weasley. They were investigating the old town that Hermione's parents had lived in. "You know, everyone's going on about 'oh, he's changed' and 'oh, he's a better person now', but you sure do seem to me like you're the exact same guy. Maybe with less insults, but still bitter and rude. Here I am trying to make decent conversation and perhaps learn to at least get along, like Harry asked, but you are being uncooperative and stand-offish. I'm willing to give you a second chance, Malfoy. If Harry and Hermione can do it, so can I."

"Oh, how kind of you." Malfoy said with a roll of his eyes. "Gee, perhaps when you join me in the world of the _dead_, you can inform me if you were a bit bitter as you were dying. Oh, and did I mention, Hermione's _missing_?"

"Hermione's fine." Ron said, as if just coming to this decision. "She wouldn't waltz off to some Death Eater camp. She must know what she's doing, whatever it is. And about you and your, um, death," Ron turned again to look Draco squarely in the eyes, "I'm sorry. I really, truly am. I know we're not, er, the best of friends," Draco snorted, "but I'm a decent guy. I honestly feel horrible about what happened and the way it did. I know it was partially my fault. I do. But I wish you would stop moping around about it."

"I-" Draco said, ready to make an angry retort, but Weasley stopped him.

"No, not for me, not for you, but…for Hermione. She…She cares about you. I may not be the most observant in the world, but I can tell. She's scared and worried. She's driven herself mad looking for a nonexistent cure." Draco winced, wishing for a bit more subtlety. "And the only one that can help her is you." Draco suddenly was aware of the harshness in Weasley's voice.

He surveyed the red-head that was glaring him down. In Hogwarts, Weasley had always been second to Potter. Not as talented, not as popular, not as rich…and he had always been immature. The immaturity had somehow dissolved throughout the events of the Second War. He was actually displaying signs of intelligence. It surprised Draco.

"And Hermione's a really caring person, you know-"

"Wait." Draco cut him off. "Say that again."

"…What? She's…a…caring person?"

A grin suddenly lit Draco's face, and Weasley took a hesitant step back. "I know where Hermione is." Without a second hesitation or to bother explaining himself to Ron, he grabbed the other boy's arm and Disapparated on the spot. "Why…are we outside Mungo's?" Ron asked, and after a moment, it hit him. His mouth made a little 'o' of understanding.

**:::**

"It'll be fine." Hermione cooed softly to the little girl who was holding her hand and crying. "We'll find your mummy, I promise."

Suddenly, a hand descended on Hermione's shoulder, and she almost shrieked, but it was muffled as her attacker pressed a hand to her mouth. She ripped it off and glared angrily at Draco, who was glaring right back, Ron standing behind him looking equally pissed. She was slightly surprised they had been able to tell who she was from the back with her blonde hair. "Go found Eric." She said to the little girl, who wobbled off to a middle-aged Healer. Hermione turned her attention back to Draco. "What do you want?" She asked, trying to act as if she was in control of the situation.

"We're leaving. Now." Draco hissed, squeezing her arm so tightly that it hurt. She was suddenly afraid, and horribly reminded of the Draco from Hogwarts. "Are you crazy? It's dangerous here! And you go without even telling anyone?"

Hermione stuck her nose in the air, trying to keep a shred of her dignity. "If I would have asked, you all would have said no."

"Damn right we would have! Do you realize how stupid this is? Weaslette started _crying_. Crying, Granger!" For some reason, it hurt to hear him use her last name instead of her first. "It's fucking Christmas. Christmas!"

"Exactly!" Hermione shrieked, ripping her arm from his grip so suddenly that he let go in surprise. "It's Christmas, and this is my fault, it's all my fault, a-and I have to a-at least do s-something for these people because it's my f-fault they're like this in the f-first place!" She was distantly aware that tears were now spilling down her cheeks, but she was too angry to care. "I'm not leaving. I'm not leaving, and you can just deal with it."

His face darkened and she was suddenly afraid that he was going to hit her, and had to remind herself that this was not Hogwarts Draco. This Draco would not hurt her. Right?

"Fine." He gritted through his teeth, and it caught her off guard. He was just letting her go that easily? He turned, and she was afraid he was going to leave, because even though he was mad she didn't want him to leave. But instead, he walked straight over to the little girl Hermione had been with only moments ago, and lifted her into his arms.

"What's your Mum look like? We'll go look for her." And he walked straight into the lift and out of sight.

Hermione was sure her jaw had dropped to the ground in shock. Ron walked up to stand alongside her, also watching the spot where Draco had disappeared. "That Malfoy…he's unpredictable." Ron said before walking off to also help.

Hermione wiped the tears from her eyes and returned to her work.

**:::**

Needless to say, the others that were staying in the Burrow were not pleased when Draco, Ron, and Hermione showed up on the doorstep many hours later, a bit of blood staining spots in their cloaks and looking incredibly worn out. They had received hours of lecturing from Moody, Lupin, Narcissa, and Mrs. Weasley in turn, and even Potter had stormed off when they had said they didn't send an owl because there weren't any in Mungo's.

After a non-too cheerful goodbye from Luna, Seamus, and Dean, (Neville had disappeared hours before to visit his Gran and tell her the news), the group returned to the Order. A week passed in a heartbeat, with Ron, Harry, and Hermione frequently having secret meetings that Draco didn't bother in joining in.

The scar was spreading. He could tell. It had once been the size of a Snitch, and now it was fractionally bigger. The moment it reached his heart was when the effects would start taking place. He had started sleeping in a shirt at night, so that Hermione wouldn't see that the scar had grown. He didn't want her to worry. Weasley's words had echoed in his head for the entire week, and she had been incredibly fragile ever since Mungo's. The slightest thing would set her off and she would scream if she was in anger or cry if she was depressed.

The attitudes of the people around him were changing. He frequently found his mother crying alone, and that did not help his decreasing hope for survival. Potter stared at him with pity and regret, and Weasley watched him as if he were an explosion waiting to happen. He wasn't sure which was worse. To his face, Hermione would act like nothing was wrong, but Hermione would frequently excuse herself from the group to be alone at random times.

They were having dinner when she did it again. Draco watched as Hermione wordlessly rose from the table and lightly walked upstairs, and he set down his fork and followed her. The others at the table said nothing.

He found her in their room, delicately flipping through a book out of her collection of many. He watched her through the crack in the door. Her eyes raked each page with the speed of someone who had read far too many books, but each flip of the page was a little bit harsher than the previous. Finally, after the book had obviously yielded no positive results, she took it in her hand and flung it across the room with a scream of frustration. He watched as tears began to silently course down her face. She buried her head in her hands and let out loud sobs and, without a word, Draco pushed open the door and entered.

She immediately attempted to quickly wipe away the evidence of her defeat and his nearing death with her hands, saying, "There just books I took from Mungo's. Stupid, really. It's not stealing, I'll give them back. It's…it's not stealing…"

He silenced her by gently taking hold of her wrists and pulling them down, away from her face. Silently, he pressed his fingers to her cheeks and wiped away the wetness, something he had wanted to do many times, clearing away her sadness, and trying to convey a message in his actions: It's not your fault.

He wiped a stray lock of hair that had been sticking to her wet cheek aside, and his hand lingered there, on her neck just below her ear.

She kissed him.

Their lips crashed together, sending ripples of shock coursing through his body, and Draco pulled her closer to him, craving the intimate closeness of their bodies. She threw her arms around his neck, and he buried a hand deep in her hair. He could taste saltiness through their kiss; was it his tears, or her's? It didn't matter, all that mattered was the two of them, in this moment. There may not be a time for this later with Death looming so near and extending a threatening hand towards His next victim, there may not be a time to convey how they truly felt. There wasn't time.

Dimly, as he deepened their kiss by pulling her closer to him, he knew that this was not how it was supposed to be. A relationship was supposed to take time to develop, but they did not have time. They had been pushed into their actions simply because they did not have enough time to truly explore their own feelings. If he had not been dying, Hermione would probably not be kissing him right now.

And as Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist, he dimly realized that he did not care.

* * *

**A/N: I WOULD put a link to a picture of the necklace Draco got Hermione, but I know when you put links on here they get all messed up and I know you're supposed to put spaces in it or something but I just don't know how, so if you're actually interested, Google 'Diamond flower necklace' and it's the first picture under 'images'. Hope you guys liked this chapter!**


	19. Left Behind

**A/N: Once again, I'm terribly sorry about the wait. The chapters should come out a bit faster now, but I'm going to be out of town from the 22-30 or something around there. I will be no where near a computer and am horribly depressed because I'll have to wait to watch A Very Potter Sequel since it comes out on the 22 :( But I will try to have at least one more update before I leave. And I had sudden inspiration for a new Dramione and had to write the first chapter, which is another reason this took a while. If I ever do publish it on this site it will be after I'm done with this story. And it needs a bit more in-depth plot first, I kind of just know the basis of the story.**

**This chapter's a lot of dialogue, probably more than any of the other chapters.**

**On another note, has everyone watched the new trailer for the Deathly Hallows? I meant to say something about it last chapter but forgot; wasn't it EPIC? :D I'm so excited!**

**Thanks to: potatocrazy4, Hartwi1, Ceylon, BelovedSaiai, Iris, Leafstar Skyclan, BambixEyesx, iamagemm, Tip Top Club, TtoboggI, Lisa, desirable69, Lycoris Brightwater, and LauriFlowi for reviewing last chapter! 183 reviews! Ahh!**

**Potatocrazy4: I'm going to completely guess and say five. Maybe six or seven, but definitely NO MORE than ten. **

Chapter 18: Left Behind

He figured he was suffering from insomnia. Sleep seemed unattainable. Not when there were so many things running through his head. Hermione had long since fallen asleep, her arm wrapped around his chest and leaning into him.

It was wrong. He shouldn't have let her do it. He shouldn't have let her kiss him. He was going to _die_, this would just make it so much harder. So much more difficult. It would just hurt _that _much more.

He slipped out of the bed, careful to not disturb Hermione, and crept downstairs. He couldn't keep lying down, he had to get up and move around. His feet took him to the kitchen, and he was not very surprised to see Potter there.

The Boy-Who-Lived glanced up from where he had been ogling a piece of parchment. "Oh." He said. "Hey."

Draco ignored him and walked to the pantry, finding some licorice wands and pulling them out to snack on. He wasn't entirely hungry but just needed something to _do_. He was sick of sitting around and watching everyone else doing things around him as he did nothing. Draco sat across from Harry and propped his feet up on the table. "You can't sleep either?" He asked, simply because the silence was a bit uncomfortable.

"No." Potter said, without looking up. He continued to stare down his nose at the parchment on the table, apparently engrossed in it. After a few moments in awkward silence, Harry glanced up at Malfoy. "It's going to end soon. All of it. We'll be able to get out of here, to leave."

"Congratulations." Draco said dryly, chewing loudly on his candy. Potter instantly averted his eyes, back to his parchment.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Harry glanced up, apparently taken aback by Draco's words. Draco leaned forward on the table and shrugged at Potter's inquisitive glare. "What's the next step, then? What's the next plan?"

"We'll have to get Nagini. The snake will be with Voldemort. Once we kill Nagini, I can kill Voldemort."

Draco nodded, trying to look nonchalant. "Sounds a bit complicated. What are you reading?"

"Have you ever heard of the Deathly Hallows?"

Draco cocked his head to the side. "Can't say I have."

"They're these three…objects, that…well, the myth says that Death created and gave to these three brothers. There's the Cloak of Invisibility, the Resurrection Stone, and Elder Wand."

Draco's ears perked up, and he was suddenly interested. "The Elder Wand? Like…the Deathstick?"

"Yeah, that's the one."

"And the relevance of this is…?"

"If the three Hallows are united, the person becomes the Master of Death. I have the Cloak of Invisibilty…"

"You do?"

"My father's Cloak."

"Oh."

"And Voldemort has the Elder Wand."

"_Oh."_

"The Elder Wand is passed from owner to owner by whoever kills or disarms the previous owner. So Snape was the owner, because Dumbledore had it before…"

"He did?"

"Yeah. He intended to die with it so its power would die with him, but Snape killed him…because he was dying anyway…"

"He was?"

"Mmhm. And I disarmed Snape once we figured all that out, so I should be its rightful owner. If that's right, then it won't work right for Voldemort, but it will work right for me."

Draco leaned back in his chair again, a smirk on his face. "Ah, but you've failed to disarm the true owner if all that is true, then."

"What?"

"I'm surprised you didn't pick up on this, Potter, you _were_ there."

"Just tell me, Malfoy."

"I disarmed Dumbledore before Snape…well, you were there."

Harry leaned back in his chair with an astounded look on his face, and then understanding washed over him. "Has anyone disarmed you since then?" He demanded, his tone taking on a more serious note.

"Hmm…well, it has been a few years….but; I suppose if someone had, I'd be dead now, so I don't think so."

Harry immediately stood, taking out his wand. "Get out your wand."

"Why?" Draco asked, not moving. "Perhaps I wanted to kill the Dark Lord, myself."

"Good one, Malfoy. You'd probably piss yourself if you had to face off against him."

Draco acted as if he were contemplating this for a moment, stroking his chin pensively. "Hmm…Draco Malfoy, 'Hero'."

"I have to be the one that does it. There's a prophecy."

"Oh, the plot thickens."

"I'm _serious_, Malfoy. 'Neither can live while the other survives.'"

"That's quite melodramatic."

"Just let me disarm you."

Draco smirked and stood, fishing his wand out of his pocket and raising it away from himself. Another second later and it was flying across the room and into Harry's waiting hand. "So how does this work? Do you use my wand, now?"

Harry inspected the two wands in his hand. "Erm, well I'm not really sure. All this is a bit of guesswork, to be honest. It wouldn't hurt, though. You can have it back until…well, the final battle."

Draco shrugged nonchalantly as Potter handed him back his wand. "Alright, then. So what's next?"

"Well, we have to get to Nagini. And well…you know, kill it. With the sword." Harry cleared his throat. "Have you ever seen Nagini?"

"Well yeah, it's kind of hard to miss it. It's quite large, you know."

"The problem is getting to Nagini without-"

"Getting blasted to pieces by the Dark Lord?"

"Well, yeah. That would be the general idea."

Draco rested his head in his palm, slumping forward. "Sounds difficult."

"We'll have to go to Azkaban."

Draco met the eyes of Potter. His green ones were narrowed and wild; he looked a bit demented. "That's impossible. There are too many Death Eaters there, Potter, it's like their Headquarters. They'll have the advantage, even if it is a bit of a surprise."

"Well what do you propose we do?"

Before Draco could even answer Harry slumped over in his seat and clutched his scar, making noises of protest. Draco almost fell backwards in his seat in surprise. "Um, Potter? You're not going to die on me, are you? Because it'll look quite suspicious…" He stood and hurried over to Harry's side and, not quite sure what to do, gave him a little shove.

Just as soon as it had started, it was over. Harry sat straight up and looked at Malfoy with a shocked expression on his face. "He's at your house, and he's about to leave. He's leaving Nagini there, he said that-"

"_My_ house?"  
"Yes, Nagini's with him, we have to go _now_. This is our only chance! He's not going to be there, and Nagini is. Go get Hermione, I'll go get Ron."

"Erm, did you just _see _this, because I'm a bit unconvinced-"

"Yes, I saw it! He's angry, really angry, some mission or something failed to get to us, and he's going to Azkaban but leaving Nagini there-"

"Why would he leave his snake at my house?"

"I don't know! Maybe he thought we wouldn't expect it, now go get Hermione!"

Harry was halfway up the stairs before Draco had even moved an inch. He raced after him and took the stairs two at a time, sensing the urgency in Potter. He threw open the door and Hermione jerked awake. She must have seen something in his eyes, because she asked, "What's wrong?"

"Snake's at my house, we have to go kill it now. Doesn't it sound exciting?"

Hermione was up in a flash as if she had prepared for this her entire life. In a second she had pulled a sweater on and was right behind him as they leapt down the stairs to find Harry and Ron having a full out fight.

"I'm not letting you all go without me!"

"If we die on this mission, it's all over! Just stay behind, we'll take care of the snake, and if we get caught you can just go take care of Voldemort!"

"Ron's right, Harry." Hermione said, wringing her hands nervously. "You should stay behind."

Knowing he was outnumbered, Harry embraced Hermione and then Ron hurriedly. "Are you going?" He asked Draco.

"Don't I look ready to go? I'm dying anyway, might as well."

Harry grinned but did not embrace him, for which Draco was thankful. Without another moment's hesitation, they stepped out into the night and Draco Disapparated them to Malfoy Manor with Potter's Invisibility Cloak over them.

The walk to the secret entrance was trouble-free. The walk to the entrance to the living room was effortless. But it was when they glanced into it and saw the five Death Eaters circling the snake that they knew this was not going to be an easy task. How could they possibly kill the snake and not get captured?

Draco felt something nudge his arm and he turned to look at Weasley. Ron's eyes darted to Hermione and then he nodded his head at the snake, and somehow, Draco understood. He nodded and in that moment they had some sort of connection; some sort of understanding between the two of them. Draco gently took Hermione's arm and pulled her back away from the door. She looked at him with questioning in her eyes, but her silent question was answered as Ron slipped the Invisibility Cloak off of them and disappeared. Her mouth opened but she could not speak.

Draco watched as the snake's head flew off as if by some magical force. The Death Eaters stared dumbfounded at each other for one instant, but then five curses all flew in the air in different directions. A lamp flew off a desk and Draco knew Ron had been hit; the red-head appeared in their view, clutching his leg that was bleeding profusely, and threw the Invisibility Cloak at Draco, who stepped in the door and caught it.

Draco grabbed Hermione and began pulling her back towards the exit, but she struggled. She screamed and pleaded and cried and Draco knew if they did not get away right now the Death Eaters would get them so he pulled harder and she struggled harder.

She was beating her fists against his chest, hysteric screaming tearing through her lungs as she squeezed her eyes shut, willing it to not be true. She struggled against Draco's arms, but he would not relent, he kept dragging her back, away from Ron, back, and she was screaming as loud as she possibly could, they could not leave him behind, they just could not!

But Draco knew there was no helping the Weasley and he continued to forcefully pull her until they were out the door and he grabbed her arm and Disapparated to the Order. He shoved her inside the door and she turned to face him and punched him in the face. It did not surprise him but it hurt nonetheless.

"I hate you!" Hermione screamed, and the words tore into his heart like a knife, slicing away everything he had worked for, the whispered promise of _I don't hate you anymore _was floating away and replaced with something much more solid, much more defined, something that he was much more familiar with. Hate. Being hated by Hermione Granger was something that he was all too familiar with, but hating the fact that he was hated by her hurt far too much than it should have. This was really it. She hated him.

And for what? For saving her life? If they had tried to save Weasley they, too, would've been captured and would have met the same end. It wasn't as if he was too worried about his own life anymore, he was already dying! He had been worried about hers and hers only, and even Weasley had been intelligent enough to signal Draco to not let her try to rescue him. It was impossible. It had been impossible.

A shooting pain in his chest, he couldn't breathe, his hand flailed for a moment and then he was falling, there was a distant scream and then there was darkness, his last thought echoing in his head.

_I don't want to die._

* * *

**A/N: Please bear with me. I know this chapter was entirely unrealistic with the whole snake thing but it HAD to happen for the sake of the plot. Personally, this is my least favorite chapter out of the whole story, but I hope that you guys understand. *Crosses fingers* Review! Please :D And I'm going to fix all the chapter titles because the whole Chapter 18: Chapter 17 stuff is annoying me. So just saying that in case you guys notice ;)**


	20. Remember to Forget Me

**A/N: So, this might be the last chapter for a few weeks. I'd have to churn out another by Wednesday, which isn't very likely, as I'm leaving Thursday and won't be back until the following Friday. Sorry about that, guys!**

**Thank you ever so much to: Hartwi1, Leafstar Skyclan, Dozy Dora, Ceylon, BambixEyesx, NLC, Tipsy, .star (FanFiction seems to think I'm putting in a url when I put in your name, so sorry about it getting all screwed up), and LauraFlowi for reviewing my last chapter! You guys are the bestest! Only 8 more reviews until 200 reviews! *dies***

Chapter 19: Remember to Forget Me

_Draco was flying. He was not suspended by broom though; he was flying, his arms by his sides, soaring over a landscape that he could not discern through a layer of fog. He had never felt so impossibly _liberated_ and he felt weightless and it just felt so right that it had to be wrong._

_But then out of nowhere his father was there, looming over him, and he was so impossibly large that Draco immediately came to a halting stop, fear lacing through his veins and oh I'm sorry if I failed you Father I'm so so sorry will you please forgive me? "You disgrace me." His father said in a booming voice that echoed all around them and filled Draco's ears. He looked as if he were in a rage and was quite terrifying. "You go about with this Mudblood girl. You'll pollute the bloodline."_

_"But father…I'm not…I'm dying." Wait, was he _dead_? Is that why his father was here?_

_Lucius Malfoy scowled and Draco was filled with such shame that it truly hurt in a deep way that he did not understand. "You disgrace me, son."_

_His voice echoed around Draco, and suddenly he was falling, falling fast, plummeting to the ground and no longer suspended by some invisible force. He screamed and flailed his arms but nothing happened, how had he been able to fly before? He could not remember; he was going to smash into the ground, he was going to be squashed like a bug, but nothing he could do could stop his descent and his stomach twisted and he shouted for help, Father save me, why won't you save me, and oh no this will surely hurt all my bones will break this will hurt and I never even got to see Hermione and tell her that I'm so sorry, I'm so fucking sorry-_

_Something formed in the mist below him, and then Voldemort was there, as if accepting him with arms open wide as he fell to his inevitable fate. Draco flapped his arms pointlessly and shouted, someone please save me, anyone! Voldemort sneered, his red eyes piercing him and seeing all his cowardice and weaknesses and he was oh so _tainted_, tainted with lies and flaws and deaths and murders, and Voldemort hissed in a voice that made chills erupt all over Draco and he was so horribly frightened, why was no one saving him; I'm not worth saving, am I? "You thought you could escape me? How foolish. I will find you. You can't hide from _me_. You can't hide from death."_

Draco bolted up, sweat pouring down his face and the feeling of falling to his death immediately vanished. There was a constant throbbing in his chest and he glanced around. He was in his room. In the Order. He was alive?

"Oh, Draco." He glanced to the side and his mother was there, sitting in a chair and watching him. Her normally composed face was gone; replaced by an apprehensive look. Her face was red from crying and her eyes were puffy. He had never seen his mother cry. He didn't like it. She was supposed to be…poised and collected.

"Mother." He said, his voice coming out cracked and dry. "How long have I…?"

"Oh, only a few hours, son." She answered hurriedly. He noticed she was holding his hand. She had never done that, not even when he was young.

"I'm…uh…sorry." What else was he to say?

His words seemed to have a negative effect and Narcissa only began to sob. She turned her face away from him and he looked away, discomfited. "My son…my only son…" She whispered brokenly. He felt guilty.

Narcissa stood and left the room, hiding her face from him the entire time. He figured that she did not want him to see her cry. She had always tried to uphold an image for herself: calm, cool, and collected. She didn't like people to know that she could break down. She didn't like people to know that she was human.

The door opened and Draco wondered if his mother had returned. When he looked up, it was Hermione. He could tell she had been crying a fair amount; her eyelashes were still damp and her face looked wet. He looked away, wondering if she had come to declare her hate for him again. He was completely astounded when she fell to her knees by his bed and leaned her forehead against the side.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She murmured. "I didn't mean it. I thought…I thought you were dead…and the last thing I had said to you…I'm so horrible, it was a horrible thing for me to do…"

He silenced her with a gentle kiss to her mouth. It was nothing like their first; it was soft and reassuring. He placed one of his hands against her cheek as he leaned closer, part of his body hanging over the bed, and she practically melted into the kiss, as if in dire need of intimacy.

"Oh, er, sorry."

Both of them broke apart in an instant and glanced up to see Potter staring sheepishly at them. Hermione looked down at her feet as if she had been caught doing something atrocious and Draco scowled, but instantly stopped by the look on Potter's face. It looked as if he had been crying as well.

"I, um, should've knocked. I'll just…leave you…"

The moment he was gone Hermione stood up and clambered into the bed next to Draco. He scooted over to give her room and she burrowed herself underneath the covers and then pulled herself against him. She buried her head in his chest and made no sound, but he knew she was crying. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his cheek against the top of her forehead, closing his eyes.

"Snape said…you've entered the second stage of the curse." She whispered finally.

He changed the subject. "Weas – er, Ron – he'll be alive, you know. They'll keep him for questioning and for bait, like they did with you." He conveniently left the word 'torture' out of his sentence.

She lifted her head from his chest and met his eyes. "I know. We're going to get him; Harry and I. He'll be in Azkaban. Neville, Luna, Seamus, Dean, Ginny, Fred, and George are coming, too…but not the adults. Harry and I have talked about it. We'll have more success if we sneak in there with a small group. We aren't going to tell them."

"I'm going too."

She looked taken aback by his sudden determination. He narrowed his eyes, as if daring her to tell him he couldn't. This was his chance to do something meaningful before he died. To do something to be remembered for. "But Draco, you aren't even healthy…We're going tonight."

He tried not to think of Hermione charging into Azkaban with only a bunch of teenagers by her side to protect her. He tried. "I know Azkaban. It was like my second home for a few years. I can help."

She still looked uncertain as she considered him. He knew nothing she said would keep him from going; she couldn't boss him around. He was set on going, now. He needed to do this. He needed to redeem himself. She rested her head on his chest, again, and he felt satisfied.

She began to trace the lines on his palm for a few minutes, and it was oddly soothing. He sighed in contentment and she lifted her head and took a deep breath. "Draco…I've been thinking a lot lately…Will you…I want you to…"

Hermione seemed to not be able to find the right words, and he raised his eyebrows as if telling her to go on. She took another breath and whispered, "When all of this is over, I want you to marry me."

It had not been at all what he had expected her to say. His mouth fell open instantly and she tensed, waiting for his answer. Marry her…? They had only kissed _twice_! And not to mention the little fact that his death would be happening shortly…wait, that was what this was about. She wanted to marry him before he died.

"I know it sounds completely irrational and doesn't make sense but Draco I just…I can't just…" She was crying, now. He hated it. "I can't just l-let you l-leave me without ever having…I…I love you."

He felt like he was falling, just like in his dream. Had she not just exclaimed her hate for him a few hours ago? And now…Now she loved him? He wanted ever so badly to say it back. To tell her that he, too, loved her and that he wished their time wasn't so limited and that he was oh so sorry for everything he had ever done and maybe if he had not been so _stupid _they would have had more time and none of this would have happened. Love was an insanely complicated word that he had once whispered to Pansy on a cold night in Hogsmeade but had never truly meant. She had lit up instantly and said the same back to him and he had known that she had not meant the words, either.

He knew now that love was not just something that you could say to someone. It was complex and painful and he had truly not ever felt love for anyone but his mother and himself. Did he love Hermione? He could not say. She was wonderful, yes, she was accepting and forgiving and brilliant and intelligent and she may not be the most gorgeous witch in the world but she was oh so very beautiful in her own way and he wanted to cry just thinking about it because there would soon be a time where he would never see her again. He had once thought her hideous and a brat and a know-it-all, and if he had only _just_ opened his eyes that were not truly even his he would have seen her for what she truly was.

What did love even mean? Did love mean that you would do anything for that person? Did it mean that you would live for them and breathe for them and even die for them? Did it mean you would sacrifice anything for them, just so that they would be happy? Did it mean that you would hurt them to save them?

If so, then yes, he loved Hermione.

"No." He said. "Don't say that. You don't love me." He sat up and took her face in his hands and her eyes were closed and he felt truly guilty. She shook her head, telling him with action that his words weren't true, but he didn't let go. "You are not going to sit in your house and do nothing but think about me when I'm gone. You are going to grow old and be happy and you are going to get married and have children and you are _never _going to think of me again, do you hear me?" Oh shit, now _he _was crying. He could not cry. "If I ever come into your mind it will be to think of how horrible I was to you in school; of how much a prat I was. You are not going to waste your life away thinking about some cowardly Slytherin Death Eater."

She shook her head and opened her eyes, her bushy hair swinging back and forth and he could not help but watch it. "I can't just forget about you, Draco. You've saved me and you've helped me and you've seen me at my worst and didn't run away and you mean so much to me that I can't and won't forget about you. I don't even _understand _how it happened and it doesn't make sense but I suppose these things never do. I've never truly believed in something that isn't solid and proven but now I do. I love Harry, I love Ron, but I _need _you. I love you in such a way that it hurts, Draco."

"No you don't." He was begging, now. He shook his head and bit his lip. "You can't. Hermione, I've always been selfish. I've always wanted everything to myself. But I don't want this. Not like this." He shut his eyes to block out her face, which looked far too sad. "I was raised to hate and judge and…I'm sorry. None of it really matters, you know?" He was rambling, now, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. "No one ever told me that. I was always told that Muggle-borns were scum and beneath ourselves, but then _you _showed up, and you were smarter than me and better than me and I _hated _you. Muggle-borns were most certainly not supposed to best a Malfoy, but you did. That wasn't a bad quality, right? Intelligence? But no one ever told me that. I kept on believing that it was.

"And then I saw you in Azkaban and you were broken and I told myself that I didn't care but I _did,_ I cared because you reminded my of Hogwarts and look where it got me? I'm dying and I hurt so much, too much, and I've changed, you've changed me. You. I don't care about it anymore, I'm still scared, I'm _so _fucking scared, but I don't care that you're a Muggle-born or a Gryffindor or that I'm a Slytherin because it never truly mattered. I don't care about the stupid bloodline because I'll still be rich and you'll still be you and there's nothing wrong with you and it wouldn't noticeably change _anything_. And I just wish…that we had another chance. But we don't, and you have to move on, because I don't want you to live a horrible life because of me. I seem to always make your life horrible. That was once my _goal_, but now..."

He stopped. She stared. He felt suddenly foolish and lowered his head. He had just rambled off too much information, and had not stopped himself; had not contained himself. But he was _dying_. She lifted his head up with her index finger and she was crying and so was he and it all felt too incredibly _real _that it surely couldn't be happening, could it? "You don't make my life horrible." She whispered, and then they were kissing again, and he hated it but loved it at the same time. He _deserved _this, he really did, but she did not, she did not deserve to need him and love him and then have him leave her. He was not supposed to care; he was Draco Malfoy for Merlin's sake, but he did and he could not even help it. He pulled away and instead pulled her against him and they lay down together on the bed.

"I won't marry you. I refuse to." He whispered.

"I know."

**:::**

"Hermione told me you wanted to go."

Draco was sitting up in his bed, now, with his arms crossed over his chest. All signs of his former meltdown were gone. Hermione had crept out of his bed when he supposed she thought he was asleep, most likely going somewhere to be alone and think. "Sure am." He surveyed Potter's face for a moment, who looked troubled. "This is it, isn't it?" He asked quietly.

Harry nodded. "Yes. I have to end it before he makes another Horcrux."

They sat in silence for a moment, until Harry said, "About you and Hermione…"

"Don't." Draco grimaced. "Please don't give me a lecture."

"Fine. So…where do you suppose they're keeping Ron? I'll admit it, having you there will certainly help since you know your way around."

Draco thought for a moment, picturing the many halls of Azkaban in his head. "Probably in some random cell. It will be difficult to find him."

Harry nodded, as if he had been expecting this. Then he stood. "We're leaving tonight at one. Don't be late. I have to go speak with Snape."

"I thought we weren't telling any of the adults?"

"I'm not. He wants to talk to me. Be ready for tonight, Draco. This is it."

Draco understood the unspoken words. By the end of tonight, one side would come out the winner. The War would finally have a definite winner and a definite loser. It would either be cast into darkness once and for all or brought back out into the light again. By the end of tonight, the world would be changed forever.

He could not help but think that everything seemed to favor the side that he was not on.

* * *

**A/N: So I know Draco is a bit OOC in this chapter, but he's dying and I figured that that sort of thing would put stuff into perspective :) Sorry I left you guys on a bit of a half-cliffie before I go, but hey, at least Draco is still alive and so is Ron! XD I'll try my hardest to get another chapter in before Thursday, but no promises, so in the meantime, review!**


	21. The End's Beginning

**A/N: The good news: I came home early! Yay! The bad news: I'm leaving AGAIN this Saturday and am going to be gone until the Sunday of the next week :( Ughh I don't want to go! I've actually been home since Sunday but this chapter gave me a little trouble and it took me a while to be satisfied with it. **

**217 reviews? WHATTTT? That's crazy! Thanks to .star, WeAreLoveStory, HP0247, potatocrazy4, BambixEyes, Leafstar Skyclan, Girl-x-91, spider, Hartwi1, desirable69, LauraFlowi, nabbi, NaTTyKiinz, Lycoris Brightwater, Leanora, Ceylon, personofnoconcern, AlyssaRose369, and Dozy Dora! I don't think I've ever gotten that many reviews in one chapter! Last chapter was my personal favorite as well, which sucks, because now it's incredibly hard to write something as good as the previous chapter. But I tried!**

**.star: I tried to get in another chapter! But I failed :( I hope you can forgive me and still review this chapter :D**

**potatocrazy4: Wow, thank you! I'm flattered :) haha**

**Leafstar Skyclan: Yay! I love cookies! *takes cookie***

**nabbi: Thank you so much! Dangit, I think you're right about the Elder Wand. But didn't Dumbledore sort of let Draco disarm him in Half-Blood Prince? But I guess he didn't because he wanted to be the last master of the Elder Wand. Darn, I wish I would've thought of that. Thanks for pointing it out though!**

**Ceylon: You'll have to wait and see... *evil laugh***

**AlyssaRose369: I know exactly what you mean! Haha and yes I wish that Draco and Harry would've been a team at some point in the books, because it just seems like they'd be brilliant together! But, unfortunately, it didn't happen. And I was looking at your profile (which I do for all my reviewers, I guess I'm a bit of a fanfiction stalker XD) and could not help but notice that you are a Zutara fan as well! (Yes, I watch a cartoon and I'm not a preteen, and yes, it's the best cartoon ever!) If you don't mind me suggesting, you should read Love Thy Enemy by RedNovember if you haven't already. It's positively the best fanfiction I have ever read, and is also Zutara, which is awesome!**

**I was in the answering reviewers mood :)**

Chapter 20: The End's Beginning

They were all crowded in the kitchen, each of them leaning over a map that was spread over the table. Draco had helped Potter draw the map about an hour ago, and now the Boy-Who-Lived was tracing their route into Azkaban. "We're going to be dressed in Death Eaters' cloaks and masks," Potter was saying, "but unfortunately, the door is guarded by Dementors. I think our only chance of getting by them is a Patronus Charm."

Draco chanced a glance at Hermione. She was sitting in a chair, arms crossed, eyes vacant. _Please forgive me._

"Hopefully, none of the Death Eaters inside will notice. The doors will be closed, so the only ones that will see there isn't any Dementors guarding the doors will be the ones coming in, and according to Malfoy, not many enter in the middle of the night unless there's something important. This hall, right here," Harry tapped his finger against the map, "leads to the Death Eaters' Meeting Room. Avoid this place, as there will probably be Death Eaters in here. _This _staircase, right here, leads to the first level of cells. We're going to have to split up to find Ron. If we're discovered and someone attacks us, split up. It will be better if we aren't all clumped together, because they won't be able to capture us all. Malfoy's going to Disapparate us all to Azkaban, because you have to have a Dark Mark to Apparate outside of it."

Everyone glanced at Draco. So this is it.

Harry took a deep breath and everyone followed suit. He was holding Draco's wand, and Draco had Potter's stowed away in his pocket. He hoped Potter's theory was correct. "Everyone ready?" They all nodded, moving to take a cloak and wrap it around themselves, then take a mask. Apparently Potter had taken them after a battle a year ago, just in case they would come in handy. They had.

This is the end.

Or is it the beginning?

They were all kids. We're just kids.

_I'm scared._

And then Hermione was there, and she took his hand. He looked down at her and she smiled grimly, reading his thoughts; _we can do this_. He tried to squash the feeling inside him; the doubts, he tried to be brave. Unfortunately, that had never been one of his defining attributes. The good side always wins, right? But this was real. This was no fairy tale. This was their _life_.

The fate of the entire world was resting in their hands in this very moment. He looked around at the people, the _kids_, circling him in Death Eaters' robes. If Mad-Eye came down the stairs at this moment he'd probably kill them all. They looked pretty convincing.

He could not help but wonder which of these people would not be returning. Would Neville join his parents? Would one of the twins lose their second half? Would Mrs. Weasley lose a son or a daughter? Would Potter fail? Would Hermione…

_Don't think that way. Don't do that._

And he Disapparated.

The wind was the first thing he became aware of after the feeling of nausea passed. It was biting, cold, foreboding. _Don't enter here_. The waves were crashing against the dark rock and spraying them with little flecks of the sea. He shivered. Cold. Cold like death.

One of the members in their little group stepped forward and led them toward the entrance. He couldn't tell which it was (Potter?) but they walked with their back straight and an overdone sense of confidence. Draco knew it was a show for the others, we can do this, he was saying, we can win. But could they?

A great, silver stag burst forth from Potter's wand, and the Dementors shrank back, over the ocean, and were gone, fleeing the light. Each of them tensed; would a Death Eater jump from the entrance and kill them all for such an act? They waited; they held their breath…nothing happened. Draco looked at them all. Which was Hermione?

They entered. Their cloaks stilled and the relief from the wind was immense. It was dark inside, as it always was, but only Draco knew that. But there was a choking sense of silence. Perhaps it was only because he knew he was not supposed to be here, but something felt _off_.

Harry turned, opened his mouth, about to say something – what, what is it, speak – and then his eyes widened and his wand was out but it was too late, an explosion rent through the air and there were a few screams – Hermione? – and every fiber of his being was screaming _run, get away, _and he obeyed.

They had all been grouped together in a very suspicious looking circle – stupid plan – but the moment the explosion rent through the air they scattered like mice. Each of them tore in different directions, flashes of dark colors, and Draco burst through a door that led to a staircase. His feet pounded underneath him and he was coughing, his lungs trying to dispel the smoke that had appeared around them (Hermione's work, no doubt), and someone was following him but he knew it was someone from their group. Run, run, his legs commanded, and he was breathing heavily, but he burst through the door on his left and was sprinting up the stairs, _flying – _Oh God he had left Hermione behind please just let Hermione be ok – but I have to run now, I have to save myself…

It was a hideous game of cat and mouse, a terrifying game of hide and seek where the prize of the game was life.

Draco rammed his shoulder into a door on the left and stumbled inside. His follower (please be Hermione) dived in just as he slammed the door shut. He pressed his back against the cold wall and slid to the floor, ripping off his mask. It had been a good plan – or not.

The person next to him followed suit. Potter. Draco buried his head in his hands and took in deep, gasping breaths of the cold air, adrenaline pumping through his veins and oh shit they were going to die.

The cell they were in was empty. Potter stood and began to reach for the door –

A pound came from down the hall, and Draco could make out the voices of two men, "Two came this way, come on," and all hope was lost. Potter shrank back from the door immediately, a brief flicker of fear in his eyes that was gone in another moment. Draco wished he could squash his fear.

"I have to get to Voldemort. They'll have reported intruders by now, and he'll be on his way." Potter hissed, his face the perfect mask of controlled calm.

And Draco wanted ever so badly to volunteer, to say, "I'll distract them so you can get away," but he just couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to say it because he was such a bloody _coward, _and nothing more, why couldn't he just do it, he was dying anyway! But he was scared. Scared of torture.

There was a bang, and both the boys jumped. Then another, and another, followed by another. They were coming down the hall, checking every cell, and they would reach their cell soon –

"Crabbe, come on, we've caught some."

Draco and Harry shared a significant glance, utter fear in both their faces, each more terrified at that moment than anything. Someone had been found. Someone had been caught. And if it was Hermione they'd torture her and could she withstand any more torture? He was sweating now, his breaths were coming in little gasps, and it was all so foreign and _wrong_.

The door creaked open and Draco jumped, thinking it was a Death Eater attacking them, only to notice that Potter was peeking out the door. "They're gone, let's go."

They snuck out the door and plastered themselves against the wall, glancing each way, and then there were two Death Eaters on each side of them, shouting. Two spells caught both the astonished men and they tumbled back, Draco and Harry dropping their wand arms and taking deep breaths. And then Draco was struck with such a feeling that he had never felt before and he said, "Potter, go find Voldemort and do what you have to do. I'll find whoever was captured. I know this place."

Potter looked back at him, confused, _what are you saying?_, and Draco wasn't quite sure himself. But he nodded and took off, a blur down the hall and up the stairs. Draco turned in the opposite direction and suddenly he, too, was running, but he didn't know where even to begin. How could he possibly search every single cell? He knew that no one was on this floor, or else the other Death Eaters wouldn't have carelessly gone opening every cell in search of him and Harry. What had he gotten himself into?

He flew up the staircase and to the next floor and used his wand to open the first cell. Nothing. He went down the row, sometimes coming across prisoners cowering in the corner of his cell, but none of them were who he was looking for so he moved to the next cell, leaving the door open. No sense in acting like they weren't here; everyone probably knew.

He had to keep casting looks over his shoulder to feel even slightly comforted, but he was terrified, his heart was racing and his head was pounding and he knew any moment he could be caught, alone, with no one to back him up.

"Well, hello, Draco. Doing your rounds?"

He didn't even think before whirling around and sending a spell in the direction of the voice. There was a muttered, "Shit," and Draco didn't wait to see who it was. He tore off down the hall, zigzagging in a desperate hope that one of the spells whizzing by his head wouldn't hit him. He turned and sent another spell at his chaser, whom he now recognized as Rookwood, but the older man blocked it easily. He begged his legs to keep running, go, get out, _escape_, but then there was another masked Death Eater in front of him and he skidded to a halt, firing a spell at them, but it was pointless.

And then spells were firing from both sides at his body, and he turned and blocked one and barely dodged the other. He cast a spell at Rookwood, but it missed and left his side open and the other Death Eater cast a spell at him. He turned to block it but suddenly it felt as if someone had jabbed a knife into his chest and _twisted_, and he faltered, gasping out in shock and wondering what had happened, was he dying, now of all times? And the spell hit him in the side (pain, shooting) and his vision was suddenly white hot, and he staggered and he felt the ground underneath him (when had he fallen?) and he had to get up, he just had to, the world needed him, Hermione needed him, and then he was being dragged, he was moving, someone was touching him, Father, is that you? Why won't you love me, Father? And then all was still and there was a shout of dismay, someone was cradling him and saying his name, at least someone cares about me, that's good…there was something wet on his face; he was confused, he whispered, "Mother," and the person shushed him and he leaned into them because they were oh so warm, their words fading in around him, _everything's going to be alright. _I know, Mother, I know.

**:::**

He woke with a horrible wringing in his ears and a splitting pain in his side. He felt utterly confused about the entire situation and vaguely wondered where he was but was almost afraid to open his eyes. Was he in the Order? What had happened?

And then it all came back to him; their failed plan, running, battling, and being hit. He bolted up in an instant and blinding pain shot through his head. He moaned and there was a voice next to him but he didn't have the energy to see who it was.

Finally, after a few moments of clutching his head, he opened his eyes. There were in the Meeting Room. Hermione was next to him, looking worried, and Ron Weasley was sitting in the corner, a black eye and a bruised lip decorating his face but looking utterly fine, and Seamus and Dean sat opposite him. He almost wanted to yell at them for getting caught, before remembering that he, too, had been caught. He looked at Hermione and she smiled solemnly.

And then it hit him. No one would be coming to this room. Potter had specifically _said _to keep away from this room. Oh, shit, they were in trouble. And soon more would be thrown in this room, and they would kill Potter, and it would all be over, why had they even done this in the first place? Oh, yes, Weasley. Damn him.

"I don't know what they hit you with," Hermione said, straightening her posture. "But I don't think it was anything so bad. It just kind of…confused you. You kept calling me 'Mother'."

Draco wondered what else his fuzzy brain had spouted out but chose not to worry about it. They were in deeper shit than what he might have spilled to Hermione and they had to get _out _before the torture sessions would start. He stood and swayed on his feet for a moment, then walked to the door, ramming his shoulder against it.

"I've tried every possible thing, mate. There's no way out."

_I'm not your mate_. Draco thought furiously, desperation and fear clouding his mind and making him so very furious. He hated them, he hated them all, they were why he was in this mess to start with. If he had just been a good little Death Eater and minded his manners his father would still be alive and he wouldn't be in this mess and he wouldn't be having these horrible feelings and _he _wouldn't be dying and…and…

And Hermione would be dead.

He sobered up immediately.

Draco backed away from the door and ran a hand through his hair, trying to act sensibly. There had to be a way out, right? But the Death Eaters were not that stupid to leave an escape route. Perhaps they could overpower the first one that came in? Suddenly there was a shooting pain in his chest and his vision clouded. The room felt tilted and he stumbled and choked back a gasp of surprise, but then it was over.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked, but Draco ignored her. It had happened earlier, he remembered, when the Death Eaters had been attacking him. He honestly did not want to know what it meant.

The door leading to the Meeting Room opened and Draco tensed. He turned slowly to see a masked Death Eater sauntering in the room with a wand held in his hand. He backed away towards Hermione, who stood next to him and put her shoulders back and glared. Glaring was not going to stop torture.

The Death Eater removed his mask and they all gasped in shock as a cheery grin lit up the chubby boy's face, and he produced all of their wands from his back pocket. Draco had never been happier to see Neville Longbottom in all his life.

* * *

**A/N: Yay! I love Neville :) So...who saw A Very Potter Sequel? I've already watched it twice. It was...dare I say it...totally awesome! I thought it was brilliant, and I LOVED all the new characters. The songs were more mature, as was the choreography, and Lucius cracked me up, as did Lupin. And the Snape/Lily moments made me literally want to cry! And I think I fell in love with Joe Walker...as he was playing a woman. A bit creepy. But he's amazing! I think I liked A Very Potter Musical better, simply because it's such a classic, but I LOVED AVPS. What'd you guys think of it?**


	22. However Long the Night

**A/N: I'm back for good! And first off, I'd like to say that I. Hate. Writing. Fight. Scenes. Aghh! Unfortunately, I couldn't exactly have the last battle happen without battling but it's incredibly hard to write about a bunch of people casting spells at one another without getting repetitive. Grr. And I'm not too entirely fond of this chapter because it was a pain to write. But I hope you guys like it. And if you don't entirely understand the chapter title, don't worry, because it corresponds with the next chapter title.**

**Thank you ever so much to: Lightest'Ink, Leanora, Hartwi1, desirable69, .star, Lycoris Brightwater, Ceylon, XxX Fleur-Delacour XxX, BambixEyesx, potatocrazy4, Kahlan the Dream Spirit, Dozy Dora, and LauraFlowi for reviewing! I love you all! 230 reviews is the most amazing thing ever!**

Chapter 21: However Long the Night

Neville handed them all their wands, a bright smile on his face. "They just thought I was one of them!" He said cheerily. "I didn't run, and they told me to find more of the intruders to put in the Meeting Room. So I came!"

"We have to find Harry and help him." Weasley said, standing straight and heading for the door with his shoulders back. Draco looked at Hermione, who had a similar expression on her face. Ron exited their prison and the others followed, Hermione close behind, but Draco grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. She gave a little squeak of protest but he ignored it as he pressed his lips to her's in a sudden desperation. She complied immediately and kissed him back, but pulled away all too soon, straightening her hair (not that it helped) and casting a look over her shoulder.

"Come on, Draco, now's not the time-"

He was compelled to spit the words from his mouth, to tell her the truth, because the final battle was here and at the end either he or she could be dead, and he kept having these horrible mental images of her lying on the ground, bloody, eyes wide and unseeing. He did not want to think of it but it was the dark truth, and if she died, if she died without him ever saying a thing, _he_ would not be able to die happily, and it was horribly selfish but in all honesty he was a horribly selfish person. And another deeper, darker part of him wondered that maybe, just maybe if there was an afterlife, maybe if she died then he would meet her there – and he hated himself for even thinking it. "Hermione, I l-"

"Don't." Hermione said immediately, her voice harsh. "Don't you dare." She turned and refused to look at him as she swept out the door. The first thing he felt was a hurt that swept over him and filled his entire body, and then the _hate_, how could she do this to me, and then the understanding. He had done the very same to her.

He followed Hermione out the door and found two Death Eaters on the ground, Stunned. It did not surprise him that Neville had not made the leap from Stun to kill, but he did not take too much time to dwell on it as he chased after the rest who were rapidly disappearing down the hall.

Seamus and Dean had shed their Death Eaters' robes, and Hermione and Draco did the same. It made it incredibly easier to move and they flew down the hall in a flash, looking for any sign of the Boy-Who-Lived, looking for any sign of their allies.

"Watch out!" Hermione called from behind them, and they turned to see a Death Eater pointing his wand at them all. Five spells hit the Death Eater instantly; the man never stood a chance. They turned, only to be barreled into by two dark forms. Someone screamed and Draco was up in an instant, his wand pointing at their attackers-

But he let it fall as the Weasley twins, the Weaslette, and Luna removed their masks. They embraced Ron quickly, and Draco could see the absolute panic in the normally joyous twins' eyes. "He's on the roof." One, Draco could not tell which, said quickly. "Harry! He's on the roof! We heard a Death Eater shouting to get up there, come on!"

Draco dashed ahead of their small group and he was immediately followed. He swept up the staircase, his head pounding, the _roof_, of all the places, really? Their breaths were beginning to come in short gasps as they continued to stomp up the stairs, and then they broke out into the fresh air and the dark night and the _cold._ The roof of Azkaban was small and slippery from rain, and the wind was biting them all, making them shiver, and -

Hermione screamed. Ron shouted. Draco stared. Ginny sobbed.

He was dead. Potter was dead. It was over.

The Boy-Who-Lived was lying on the ground, glasses askew, eyes shut, and Draco knew it was over. They had lost. It had all been so fucking pointless. Every last one of them was going to die, and before that, they were going to know the meaning of pain.

The next thing his eyes found was Voldemort. A chill ran down his spine. _You can't escape death. _The Dark Lord's red eyes were surveying them all with cold triumph. Bellatrix was standing behind him, her black eyes lit with glee, and behind her were at least thirty Death Eaters. Seven against thirty? That wasn't exactly good chances.

Damn it all. They were going to _die. _He looked at Hermione, who was shedding tears for her fallen best friend. Her failure of a best friend. He had been their _hope. _And he had failed; failed them all.

"I hope you all like the feeling of pain, because you sure are going to get a good taste of it." Bellatrix cackled, stepping forward, her black wand raised. "_Crucio!"_

Draco stiffened, wondering who she had been aiming at –

A scream rent through the air, a horrible scream, a scream that ripped at his insides and made him want to scream and he turned – Hermione, no – she was hurting, she was in pain, he had to stop it, he had to save her, he couldn't fail, Bellatrix is hurting her, KILL HER – and he was flying, flying across the small roof, say it, kill her, and the rain was making his hair stick to his face, making it hard to see, making his face wet – no – and he lifted his wand –

And he was promptly sent flying backwards. Pain exploded across his torso, a horrible pain, he was on _fire_, and arms grabbed him before he could topple off the roof. He heard Voldemort's cold laugh and knew that it was he who had struck him. Hermione had stopped screaming and when vision returned he saw that Bellatrix had taken a step back, her eyes wild. "Dear Draco," his aunt spoke, "I didn't know you wanted to go first."

And then _he_ was screaming, _he_ was dying, and he flailed so much that arms were holding him down so he wouldn't make himself fall over the side of Azkaban, what a way to go, he thought absently, and someone was screaming, "Stop! Please stop!" but no one listened because the pain was still there, so solid, so horrible and he was going to die and he did _not _want to die –

Somewhere in the very back of his subconscious he realized that something was horribly wrong; he had been under the Cruciatus before by Voldemort's hand after his failure to kill Dumbledore, and it had never ripped his chest in half, it had affected his entire body, but he just _knew _that currently his entire chest was being shredded to pieces and sliced in half because that was the only logical explanation for the pain – oh, the pain, someone _save _me, someone do something, no one must love me because they aren't doing anything –

The pain stopped. He realized that he was curled on the cold stone, and he looked up, shocked to see the red eyes of Voldemort standing over him. Hermione was a few steps back, a Death Eater pinning her arms to her back, wand pressed against her throat - don't hurt her –

"Do you know how I punish traitors, Draco?" Voldemort's voice was soft, cold, and he had never been more afraid in his life because this was how he was going to die. "Goodbye."

Voldemort flicked his wand and in an instant he was sent flying over the side of the roof. Pure panic pounded in his chest and he saw Hermione, saw her eyes, wide with terror, saw her open her mouth and heard the scream of horror, and then he saw her no more, all he could see was the wall of Azkaban rushing by him and it was just like his dream, he was falling, he was going to smash into the ground but this time there was no waking up, this was how he was going to die. He saw the ground rushing up to embrace him and he closed his eyes, maybe that will lessen the pain –

And he promptly stopped. Was that it? Had the impact been so quick that he had not even felt it? Was he dead already? He cracked open an eye and was shocked by the sight that met him.

He was moving _up,_ away from the ground, he had learned to fly, he surely must be the most powerful wizard that ever was – and then he looked up and was met by the cold face of Severus Snape, sitting firmly on a broom with his hand clenched around the back of Draco's shirt. It was then that he noticed that Snape was not the only one that had come – it seemed the entire Order was around them, some on brooms, some on Thestrals, each flying for the roof of Azkaban, their own personal little army.

Snape threw him back on the roof without so much as a 'you're welcome' and leaped into the battle that had apparently begun after Draco had been tossed off the roof like an old toy. Spells were flying everywhere and it was utter chaos. He saw Lupin battling with Rookwood and ducked as a spell came dangerously close to his ear, and Draco felt pure elation surge within him, they had a _chance._

He suddenly was hoisted to his feet and Hermione was there, her face cheerful at their new chance, and then she left his side and leapt into the battle. After a moment of confusion, Draco followed suit, immediately engaging with a masked Death Eater.

The roof was total chaos. Draco was able to Stupefy the Death Eater off the roof and grimaced. He had not directly killed the Death Eater, but it did not help the twisting in his stomach. Spells were flying everywhere and there was a high chance that he would get indirectly hit by a missed Killing Curse. The risks were high and there was also the chance of getting blasted off the roof and smashing with the ground below. He had already had that scare and did not want to experience it again.

Fenrir Greyback appeared in front of him with a feral grin, eyeing his new prey. Blood was dripping from his open mouth and he shivered, wondering whose blood was decorating the werewolf's teeth. Fear coursed through him as the werewolf began to advance on him and he attempted to send a Stunning Curse at the Greyback, but he blocked it easily. They engaged in a duel, dodging and attacking and all the while Greyback was steadily creeping closer to him and he just _knew _what he was doing, but if he backed up he would eventually be against the edge and could easily be knocked off the roof.

His eyes caught sight of a brown blur of hair and his instincts told him to look and he obeyed. He saw Hermione engaged in battle with Dolohov and in that moment Greyback pounced.

The sheer weight of Greyback's body took him by surprise and he fell, connecting painfully with the ground. Panic overtook him as Greyback made a move towards his shoulder, his mouth open wide, and Draco kicked as hard as he could into the werewolf's chest. Greyback grunted and snarled as Draco rolled to the side and made a dash for his wand, which was lying not too far away, but the werewolf grabbed his ankle and heaved him back, Draco scrambling to find a hold in the wet stone. The rain had started to fall harder and it was blinding him and making it hard to get away from the werewolf that was attempting to get a nice bite of him. He rolled on his back and kicked his free foot in Greyback's face. The werewolf howled and released him, and he blindly leapt at his wand. He felt the wood in his hand before he could even see it, turned on his back and aimed at Greyback, who was in mid-leap towards him, and fired a spell that sent the werewolf's body flying backwards and over the edge of the roof with a howl of shock.

Duels were going on around him and he pushed himself to his feet, trying his best to ignore the thudding pain in his chest that was commanding him to stop, slow down, and to rest. He squinted through the rain and immediately saw Voldemort, his eyes wild, in a duel with Snape. He watched his former Potions Master in awe as he dueled in a flash of lights and intricate spells with the Dark Lord that he had once served.

And as he watched, Snape stumbled. Voldemort sent down a rain of spells on him and Snape had to use all of his power just to protect himself. The moment Snape became occupied a green light flashed in his black eyes and it was the last thing he saw as he fell back. Draco was too shocked to even feel sadness and before he could even register what had just happened a Death Eater attacked him. He tried to concentrate, tried to focus, but all he could think was _who else is dead?_

The rain drummed against his face and he was partially afraid of slipping. He heard a roar of rage tear through the darkness and, without thinking, he looked in the direction.

And there was Potter, standing over Ginny's still body, who was lying on the ground with red blood spilling from her face and around her halo of red hair, and he was very much _alive, _breathing, screaming, crying, and he saw the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice's pain and pure rage in his face, saw the hatred, saw the fury, and saw Voldemort's utter shock before it melted into a similar look of hate.

Everything stilled. No one breathed. They turned to watch. This was it. This was how it was going to end. This is the end.

Everyone knew the silent command. No one interferes. This was their fight; their fight to determine the outcome of the entire world. Draco was not watching, however, was not listening to Potter spew his hero's speech, he was searching the crowd for Hermione, looking for her face and wild hair to assure himself that she was alive. When he finally caught sight of her, alive, he let out a breath of relief and returned his attention to the decisive battle.

"_Avada Kedavra_!"

"_Expelliarmus_!"

The two spells collided in a blast of blinding light. Draco had to shut his eyes tightly to protect them and covered his eyes with his arm. There was a shout, a scream, and then silence. Draco cracked open his eyes and what he saw made his body fill with elation: Potter, standing, victorious, Voldemort, lying, dead.

There was a shriek of fury and all of a sudden Bellatrix was in the middle of the fray sending spells everywhere. All of the Death Eaters followed suit in an instant and Draco's grey eyes locked with his aunt's black ones and he didn't even have time to react, didn't have time to think before there was a loud crack, his chest exploded, Bellatrix laughed, and someone screamed.

And he just knew that she had scheduled his death a month early, and that was her going away present to him.

* * *

**A/N: I didn't read over this chapter very much simply because this chapter annoyed the heck out of me. So sorry if there are a lot of mistakes! Only two more chapters to go!**


	23. The Dawn Will Break

**A/N: *Deep sigh of relief* Boy am I glad to have this chapter over and done with. It seemed to not want to come out right, but I think I got it. **

**Thanks to Lightest'Ink, Hartwi1, Leanora, Amortentiaa, LauraFlowi, Lycoris Brightwater, PsychoticAviatrix, Mandadancer94, KatenHaanrath, Ceylon, and Loriann for reviewing!**

**PsychoticAviatrix: I am sorry you feel that way, and as you have noticed, articles aren't exactly my strong point. I don't read a lot of them ;) That is how I chose to update the reader on what was going on though, and as I am a very lazy person, I think I'll just keep them the way they are. I am glad you at least like the fic though, and hope you still do! :)**

**KatenHaanrath: I know, I love Snape! Well, I didn't exactly love him until A Prince's Tale, but at least he grew on me at one point :) But I just felt he had to die, and that it made sense. Sorry!**

**Loriann: Wow, that's an incredible compliment! And yes, Deathly Hallows made me sob as well. But since I have no idea where you are in the story, I'm not going to spoil anything and say what made me sob the worst. :'(  
**

Chapter 22: The Dawn Will Break

Hermione felt as if she was having an out of body experience as she watched Bellatrix go insane, her black eyes lit with fury as she sent spell after spell into the crowd. She watched as a purple colored spell hid Draco in the chest, watched his eyes widen, and watched him fall. Her breath caught and she watched Ron and Harry take down Bellatrix simultaneously.

She watched as the still standing Death Aurors and witches and wizards took down the remaining Death Eaters and either had them apprehended or killed. She watched as Harry and Ron kneeled next to Ginny, watched as Harry pushed some of her red hair out of her face and began to mutter spells over her body. She watched as Remus Lupin stooped over Tonks' dead body, his face hidden in shadows, as two people she did not know cried over Zacharias Smith's body, most likely his parents. She watched as Percy sobbed over the body of Penelope Clearwater, as Dennis Creevey held onto the body of his older brother, Colin, as Parvati Patil clutched her twin sister's still body. She saw Snape, Elphias Doge, Hestia Jones, and Sturgis Podmore all lying dead.

She watched as Kingsley Shacklebolt tended to a horrible gaping wound in Dean's shoulder that she had seen Greyback give him, watched as Seamus embraced his parents, sobbing freely, reunited, watched as Luna consoled Dean, who was refusing to look into her eyes, watched as Neville assisted an Auror in dragging the dead bodies of the Death Eaters into a pile, and it was all so much to handle, _too_ much to handle and she did not even remember walking to Draco's side but she was there, kneeling next to him. His breaths were coming in short pants and she wanted to cry but was having trouble producing the tears, which made her feel like a terrible person.

There was nothing she could do but sit here and watch him die. There was nothing she could do but sit by his side and hold his hand and whisper pointless nothings to him because he was dying and she had been such a_ failure_ at curing him. She, Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of their age, had been unable to find a simple cure. So she kneeled next to him, took his hand, and whispered, "Shh," even though she knew he could not hear her. His body was twitching erratically and he was moaning. She pressed her cold, wet hands against his face and it was burning hot; he flinched away from her touch but she held him close, pressing her hands against his cheeks and wondering when they had gone from hating each other to her feeling so lost and helpless as he lay dying in her arms.

In Hogwarts she had hated him so much, so very much -

Hogwarts.

The place of their beginning, the place where it started, the place that had once held all the answers and could, quite possibly, still provide the same. Hermione was up and by Harry's side in a dash. "How is she?" She asked hurriedly, and Harry did not look up at her as he answered.

"She'll be fine, but there will be scarring."

"I'm going to Hogwarts." She needed to go, now.

"What?" Both Harry and Ron said simultaneously, turning to angrily glare at her. "Hermione, you need to stay here. There's a lot of recovering we need to do and we need all the able hands we can get." Ron said, his voice betraying his annoyance at her rashness.

She wanted to tell them her reasoning but did not want to get her own hopes up by voicing her thoughts. "I'm going. Just make sure that you keep Draco alive as long as possible, just watch over him."

And she ignored the questioning of their voices, ignored them as they asked why she wanted to go to Hogwarts, and watched Mad-Eye finish breaking the wards on the prison. The old Auror had somehow broken a few wards on Azkaban prior to their arrival and was now taking the rest down. The moment he finished she turned and Disapparated.

The sun was just peaking over the tops of the mountains when her feet touched the ground. She recognized where she was immediately and was hit with overwhelming wave of nostalgia, but she ignored it, sprinting in the direction of the castle. She ran through the woods, ran the worn path made from the carriages, and ran all the way to the doors of Hogwarts that were swinging freely on their hinges.

It was eerily silent and Hermione had to constantly remind herself that Hogwarts had been abandoned for years and that no Death Eater would be hiding out here. But still, the silence was choking and the darkness did nothing to help her apprehension. Harry and Ron were supposed to be by her side, or at least the bustle of students trying to hurry to their classes before they were late.

Hermione had the path to the library memorized, but for some reason, she took a wrong turn and her feet took her in another direction. She sprinted up a few staircases and before she knew it she was standing in front of the Room of Requirement. Hermione did not know when she had made the conscience decision to look for the cure in the Room, but she wasted no time in pacing back and forth in front of the wall three times, thinking fiercely, _I need to find a cure to the Curse currently placed on Draco Malfoy._

And a door appeared.

Her heart leapt so high in her chest that she felt she might throw up. Hermione sprinted to the door and slammed it open, practically diving into the room. It was empty save a lone bookshelf, pressed against the far side of the wall, with at least twenty books lining the shelves, each with the same plain black cover and gold writing on the spine. She grabbed a book and was dismayed to find it in a language that she did not understand.

She was supposed to _know_ this, was supposed to know exactly what language it was and know the exact spell that could translate it into English, but no matter how much she wracked her brain, she could not think of the spell and realized that whatever she may have once known was gone.

So, Hermione Granger did the thing she did best.

She went to the library.

She cast a quick spell to have the books trailing behind her in midair and sprinted off in the direction she knew so well. She finally arrived out of breath and her feet took her straight to the spells section out of memory. Hermione ran her hand along the spines, immediately finding a book about languages. It only took her a moment to locate the correct spell, cast it, and flip through the first book.

It was pointless ramblings about a man named Aristaclein Zethiarus and his discoveries for the Wizarding World and his adventures. Hermione, herself, had never heard of him, but pushed on to the next book and flipped through it with the speed she had acquired over years of practice. It was not until the fifth book that she found something worth her patience.

_My sinister brother has placed a Curse upon my body. I can feel the weakness; feel the Curse sapping my body of everything I have once valued. The black star has spread along my chest and it will reach my heart soon if I do not do something. I have made it my own personal goal to find a cure, because only then will I survive._

She skipped a few pages, her heart racing, and came to the last page of the book.

_My time has run out. If my predictions are correct, I only have a few hours to live. Every potion, every brew I have tried has failed. I am starting to lose hope. Death is nearing, watching me, planning to take me. I have succeeded in repaying my brother in death, but it has not gained me much. I will only join him soon._

And on the back cover of the book was scribbled instructions on how to brew a potion in utterly different handwriting. She desperately searched through the rest of the books but the only instruction on a potion was the one she had found in the fifth book. She snatched it up and raced towards the dungeons.

**:::**

Draco pulled the blanket on his bed around him, shivering at the sheer coldness in the room. He glanced at his only companion as he grit through the pain: Potter.

He found it funnily ironic that the one person sitting next to his death bed was Harry Potter, the boy he had hated with every fiber of his being only a few years ago. The Boy-Who-Killed-Voldemort was sitting in a chair a few feet from his bed, solemnly staring at the ground. Everyone else was mourning in their own way. Ronald was tending to Ginny, and the rest of the Weasleys were attempting to assuage Percy's pain at losing his fiancée. Shacklebolt had taken his mother out for a 'drink' to 'celebrate the victory' and he was pleased that he would not have to hear her sobs of loss by his bedside as he enjoyed his last few moments. As far as she knew, he was perfectly fine. Longbottom and Lovegood and Finnegan were with the rest of the Aurors, hunting down the remaining Death Eaters that were still at large. Dean Thomas was currently in Mungo's, as Greyback had taken a good chunk out of his shoulder.

"How's Weaslette?" Draco whispered, his voice hoarse from the pain, and he found himself actually curious on the redhead's progress.

"Better." Potter said, not looking up from his feet. "She'll be ok. She's just a bit shaken up."

Draco coughed, a great, wracking thing that surged through his body and when he removed his hand from his mouth he was astonished to see blood. He wiped it on the sheets and groaned, shutting his eyes and attempting to block out the pain that was spreading through his body like fire. Potter did not look up, but stayed bent over, his hands neatly clasped in front of him.

Draco wondered where Hermione was. Potter had told him that he wasn't sure where she was, but he had seen the lie in the man's eyes. He just wished that she was there. Was she afraid to watch him die? To watch him take his last breath? Was she that incredibly selfish? Didn't she know that he _needed_ her?

"Listen, Potter…" Draco began, but had to stop as he began to cough again, but this time it was more difficult to stop. Potter looked up at last, his eyes worried (funny how things turned out) and Draco had to lean over the bed to expel the blood from his mouth. He knew it was drawing near, the very end of his existence.

"Do you need…?" Potter began, but Draco cut him off by shaking his head.

"Just…just tell Hermione…" The words were incredibly difficult to speak, especially to Potter, who was surveying him quite pitifully and with a bit of understanding.

"I know." Potter said.

And he was grateful.

Draco took a shaky breath and moaned again; his chest felt as if it was shrinking all of a sudden and it was incredibly hard to draw in breath. He felt like he was sinking into a dark hole and it was becoming incredibly difficult to focus on Potter's face. And he knew it was time. He just wished that Hermione was there, to hold his hand, to say it would be fine even though they both knew it would not be, and to tell him goodbye, and so that _he _could tell _her _goodbye and apologize for everything he had ever done.

"Thanks…Harry."

And he closed his eyes.

**:::**

Hermione was sure she had never moved so fast in her life. She practically flew across the street, practically flew into Grimmauld Place, and practically _soared _up the stairs and into the room that they shared, the room she knew he would be in, ignoring the surprised looks of the people moving slowly in the kitchen. She slammed open the door and panted heavily, her eyes falling on Harry, standing, his eyes solemn, and Draco, buried in the bed and sheets, his eyes closed and he was still, _so _incredibly_ still_.

Harry turned to look at her and instantly his expression darkened. "What the hell were you thinking?" He accused. "Draco needed you, he needed you here and you weren't – "

Hermione ignored his angry questions of where she had been, ignored his accusations that Draco had needed her, ignored the screaming voice in her head, _too late_, and slipped past her best friend and pulled the vial from her cloak and slipped the purple liquid into Draco's mouth.

She waited, tense. She watched his face for any signs of life, waited to break into a smile and jump in the air and wrap her arms around his warm body and hug him and kiss him and listen as he told her it was all going to be ok, that he was healed, and that he would not leave her like that again until they were old and gray. She waited. And waited. And waited.

_Breathe_.

Harry had not moved an inch, and it seemed that he was holding his breath as well, watching the blond who was lying the bed, so still, so lifeless.

He was so still.

_Please breathe._

And Hermione lost it.

"Damn it!" She screeched, leaping forward and pounding Draco's lifeless chest with her fists and screaming, and the tears came, the horrible tears of defeat and loss.. "Damn you, Draco! Wake up! You can't just do this! Stop being selfish!" She pounded his chest, trying to pound life into him, trying to make him breathe, but it was so pointless and he was gone. Harry reached for her and pulled her away from Draco, and she turned into him, pressing her face into his reassuring body and screaming into his chest and sobbing out the pain and the hate and she didn't understand why he wouldn't wake up, why he wouldn't get up and say it was going to be ok and hug her and kiss her and it could not be true he wouldn't just leave her like that, he wouldn't just leave _me_ without a fight.

"Shh," Harry soothed, but it was not soothing at all. She wanted to run and run and get away from this place and not look back. She needed to get out of here, away from his dead body, away from all the sadness and death.

A deep, shuddering intake of breath.

A pained moan.

Harry stilled, and Hermione went utterly silent. And together, they both turned to stare at Draco Malfoy, whose eyes were flickering open, who was pushing himself up in the bed, who was rubbing his eyes. Grey eyes were staring at her in confusion, and he blinked, he _blinked, _he _breathed, _and she sobbed.

His eyes flickered from Hermione, to Harry, and back to Hermione.

"Am I…Am I dead?" Draco asked.

Hermione choked out a laugh but it came out as more of a sob and leapt on him, wrapping her arms around his body, tears flowing freely, and she punched his chest. "How dare you put me through that, you selfish git." She whispered, and he held her tightly against him. She prayed and hoped that she would never wake up from this wonderful dream, that she could stay in this moment forever and never go back to reality.

"I love you."

Hermione forced herself to pull away and stared into his glossy eyes, and she was so _happy _that she did not even care that Harry was there. She grinned as cheekily as she could muster and whispered, "I know."

And he smiled and pulled her closer to him, and she knew that this was too real to be a dream.

* * *

**A/N: Cheesy, I know :) I hope you guys liked it, though! Tell me what you think! Only the epilogue to go :)**


	24. Epilogue

**A/N: And this is it. I love you all :)**

**Thanks mucho to: ItsOnMars, potatocrazy4, fat1236, KatenHaanrath, Amortentiaa, Lightest'Ink, Loriann, Ceylon, BelovedSaiai, kyky7787, LK1995, PsychoticAviatrix, LauraFlowi, and Hartwi1 for reviewing last chapter!**

**ItsOnMars: Thank you so much! That's an insanely huge compliment, and I appreciate it :) You're too nice!**

**Amortentiaa: Thank you! I promise that I will try :) I have an idea for one, but have to flesh the idea out a little bit more before I actually consider posting the first chapter, which is completed. Or else there will be insanely long periods of time in between updates. :D  
**

**PsychoticAviatrix: Really? Thank you so much! What a compliment :) And you definitely need to get to a computer soon! And yeah, the whole idea of the Pansy part of the story actually just sort of came to me while writing the chapter that it was in. If I had thought of it sooner I would've hinted at it a bit more, but it just sort of...hit me. I admit that I'm not the best when it comes to planning out my stories in great detail, but I'm trying to be better about it!  
**

Epilogue

Draco Malfoy had never been so nervous in his entire life. He had not been this nervous when he was going on trial for all of the crimes he had committed, had not been this nervous when he had proposed, had not been this nervous when Harry had asked that he be there when Ginny had her first baby, had not been this nervous when someone on the streets had screamed at him for being a Death Eater and drawn much unwanted attention and demanded that he be taken to Azkaban at that moment.

It had been two years since the end of the war, and he was getting married.

Both he and his fiancée had agreed that they should actually go through the 'dating process' before they jump into marriage, as she had wanted before. And he had proposed exactly four months ago.

Everyone had been so incredibly excited. His mother and Mrs. Weasley had immediately got to work on planning the decorations, Harry and Ron had congratulated them, the twins planned how much firewhisky they would need to order and how extravagant they could get the fireworks to be, and Hermione had been pulled aside by Ginny to discuss some girl-related topic that he could only guess at. Harry and Ginny had already been married. In fact, they had wasted no time, and had gotten married immediately after the War had ended. Their first child, a boy, was one year old, named James Sirius Potter.

Harry and Ron had jumped into the Auror occupation headfirst and had passed the test with flying colors. After all, they had had more hands-on experience than many. Ginny had jumped into professional Quidditch in no time and was quite the star. Hermione had started out with a job at the Ministry, first being in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and then working her way up to a high position in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Luna lived a quaint little life, running the Quibbler. Neville had assisted in the rebuilding of Hogwarts and was now the Herbology teacher. Draco also worked in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. In fact, he had contributed quite a bit in finding Death Eaters that were still in hiding and making lists of the Death Eaters still at large.

On Draco's first day at work he had run into one of his old acquaintances, Blaise Zabini. He and Zabini had never been too entirely close in Hogwarts, as he had not been too much of a talker, but it seemed that something had happened to his fellow Slytherin over the course of the war. He still was silent, although not as much, but it was more of a strong silence rather than an antisocial one, and he was rather good company to be honest. They had grown close over the two years they had been working together, and when he had told Blaise that he was getting married to Hermione Granger, the man had congratulated him with a smile and a handshake, not at all what Draco had been expecting, even though he should have guessed that Blaise would have thrown his old prejudices behind him. He never asked his friend what he had gone through in the war to change him, and he supposed he never wanted to know. All he knew was that Blaise had lost his entire family to the war and lived alone. Draco remembered the day he had asked Blaise to accompany him to the Weasley's for dinner. Their normal company had been apprehensive at first, but Blaise had been polite and made conversation with everyone there.

If someone had once told Draco Malfoy that, after contributing to the end of the War, he would be getting married to Hermione Granger with Blaise Zabini as his best man (Ron and Harry both being Hermione's Maid-Of-Honors, which he had initially laughed quite a bit at), he would've laughed in their face and _known _that they were crazy. It would've been bloody obvious. But here he was, standing next to Blaise in a suit, feeling queasy, and trying his best to ignore his mother, who was weeping in the front row.

And then he saw her.

She was on the arm of Harry dressed in a simple strapless white dress that he had overheard had been her mother's. He had no idea how she had recovered it but supposed it had still been in her parents' home. The dress was tied at the waist with a satin ribbon and flowed from the waist down to her feet, trailing behind her in an elegant fashion. She lifted her chin slightly and caught sight of him. He only just realized that he was smiling, and she smiled back at him, her eyes lighting with something he was familiar with.

And he knew that this was right.

**:::**

He'd probably have to amputate his hand off – at the rate she was going, she would probably have it squeezed off first. He grimaced and decided to say nothing. After all, she was the one going through the birth of their very first child.

Draco tried to tone out the commands of the nurses and doctors and his wife's screams. He was feeling a bit queasy, and the fact that Hermione was trying to squeeze the life out of his hand was not helping. Harry had taken this a lot better than he – Harry had actually been there in mentality and by her side, offering words of comfort. He, however, was trying to imagine that he was at their nice little home in the country – yes, that was better. His mother lived at the Manor and he and Hermione had had a house constructed on a little hill in the countryside. She had not wanted their house to be that large, so he had relented and thrown away his plans of a mansion (with a bit of grumbling and complaining, of course). When he had learned of Hermione's pregnancy it had been a total shock – they hadn't even been trying to have a child. After the shock came the horror. He didn't know how to be a father! It's not like his own had been that much of a role model. Hermione's words of encouragement had not helped, either.

He couldn't raise a child. He didn't know how. He didn't know what to do; how to make them love him. What if his own child hated him? He didn't want that. But didn't kids with poor fathers usually turn out to be the same? He _couldn't _be the same as his father. He and Hermione had fought quite long and hard about what to do with the child. Draco _wanted _to raise his child, yes, but he did not want his own baby to grow up to resent him. And then the other children and parents would know that their baby was the child of a Death Eater. What if that made the other kids afraid of Draco's child?

"Mr. Malfoy?" Draco snapped back to reality at the sound of his surname and looked up. A nurse was there, holding a little slimy _thing _in her arms. "Would you like to hold your son?"

He nodded silently and took the little crying thing in his arms. He looked into his son's gray eyes and realized that he had helped create this little bundle of life. He was so _small_, with his little chubby fingers and toes and his tiny little nose. Draco was suddenly afraid he would break his own son. He seemed so fragile, so easily broken. His son, _his son_ squirmed and met his father's eyes with a little bit of questioning and curiosity. Draco looked at Hermione, who was smiling down at the bundle in his arms.

"His name?" The nurse asked.

Hermione answered with the name that both she and Draco had decided on (with much arguments and tantrums). "Jaden."

Draco looked back at his son and grinned. He could do this.

**:::**

"Remember when Mad-Eye turned Draco into a ferret? Merlin, that was one of the funniest things I'd ever seen."

Everyone laughed at Ron's memory, well, everyone except Draco, of course, who scowled at the redhead. "That wasn't me." Mad-Eye said gruffly, his electric blue eye turning on Ron, who shrugged.

"Well, at the time we thought it was."

"Why'd he turn you into a ferret, Daddy?" Draco's daughter, Addison, turned from her position in her father's lap to stare at her dad questioningly. Her brown eyes twinkled in confusion and he tugged her blond hair, tied in a ponytail, in an attempt to avoid having to answer the question.

"Because he was a git." His brown-haired son said from where he was sitting with James and Albus, Harry and Ginny's children. James was ten (and naturally thought he was one of the wisest things on the earth) and both Jaden and Albus were eight. The Potter's youngest child, Lily, and Draco's daughter were both five. Ron and Luna's (yes, they had all been equally surprised when the odd couple began their relationship) had two children as well, Hugo (at the age of six) and Rose, who was only two years old.

"Jaden!" Hermione scolded, slapping her son on the back of the head good-naturedly, who scowled in a very Draco-like way.

"Really, Daddy?" Addie turned to stare at him in awe, as if wondering how he could ever do something that would earn him the insult.

Draco had learned every meaning of the phrase 'Daddy's Little Girl'. The first time Draco had held his daughter, he had had an overwhelming sense of the need to protect her from all harm. He had gotten a good taste of parenting from raising Jaden already, and was a little less apprehensive at the whole prospect. When Harry had jokingly said that maybe one day Hugo and Addie would date, he had nearly keeled over. His daughter…dating? Ha, she wouldn't be dating until she was twenty.

And that was when he realized he was an overprotective father. But he didn't really care. And besides, his daughter could do much better than _Weasley's _children.

**:::**

The train whistled loudly, signaling that the last of the passenger's should board quickly. Hermione was kissing the top of her son's head and holding him tightly to her chest as if she could never let go. "Why does Jaden have to go, Daddy?" Addison asked from atop his shoulders.

"Because he has to go learn Magic."

"Am I gonna go to Hogwarts?"

"Not until you're eleven."

"Oh."

Draco stepped forward and pried his son from his mother's embrace. Hermione wiped her eyes and smiled a wet smile at her young son, who grinned eagerly, his back straight and his gray eyes lighting with excitement. Draco hugged his son and said, "Hurry, before they leave without you."

Jaden joined with Albus and hopped onto the train. Both of their heads immediately popped out of a window of a compartment and began waving frantically at their parents. Both Hermione and Ginny were an emotional wreck as Draco and Harry waved at their departing children. Addie leaned forward on his shoulders and called out to her brother, and Lily, who was hanging on to Ginny's hand, did the same. "Tell Neville we said hi!" Harry yelled at his son, who nodded in agreement. James was in the back of the train with his Third Year friends. He waved once and vanished from sight.

"I can't believe he's already off to Hogwarts." Hermione whispered, her hand on her chest as the train disappeared from sight. "Can you believe it, Draco?"

"No, I can't."

And the train turned the corner and was utterly lost from view. Draco took a deep breath, not quite expecting the sudden feeling of loss that washed over him. His son was beginning his life. He, himself, had once stood on this very platform, quite a different boy than what his son was. He had looked down on everyone present and thought he was on top of the world.

It wasn't the end, but rather the beginning. Hermione lifted her daughter off of his shoulders and held her close, as if dreading the moment when her last child would depart for Hogwarts. He followed her as they left the Platform, missing one of their children. Draco took the hand of his wife and smiled softly at her. She returned the gesture with wet eyes.

And they left the Platform with the flow of the other parents. Their adventures may have come to a close, but the adventures of their children were only just beginning. Their lives were far from over; they would still watch their kids grow. They still had many more arguments left in their lives and many more "I love you"s to say. And Draco still had to kick the arse of whatever unfortunate soul decided he wanted to date _his_ daughter.

It was far from the end, but rather a new beginning to a new chapter in their lives.

* * *

**A/N: So epilogues aren't exactly my strong point. I couldn't decide what events in their life to include and how detailed I should be. I thought a lot about writing about Addie going through the dating process and Draco's children becoming teenagers and going through all that fun angst, but decided I'd leave the end open. I like where I ended it, and I hope you do too :)**

**So a HUGE THANK YOU to everyone who has ever put this story on their Alerts, Favorites, or reviewed. Every single one of you made me get my lazy butt to the computer and write the next chapter to this story. I can't believe I finished it that fast. And I never, ever imagined that I would be getting over 200 reviews. That's crazy! It was more of a dream of mine, and I can't believe it happened.**

**I do have an idea for a new Dramione called Love Is Blind, and it will be a bit different from this one if I end up posting it. Draco will be a LOT more grouchy and rude and mean, so, in other words, he will be more like Draco. I have to think of a more detailed plot before I begin posting it, though. And, for me, school starts this Monday, which means I will be quite a bit busier and there will be a lot less time for writing. I also have written a One-Shot that I'll probably post in a few days, so check that out and tell me what you think :)**

**Things I meant to include in Asylum but never got to it:**

**1. This story is categorized under 'Angst', but as I wrote it, most of the angst that I had originally planned sort of vanished. So there was supposed to be A LOT more angst, but I decided against it.**

**2. It was supposed to take a lot longer for Hermione to regain her sanity. I was going to have them in Azkaban for longer than what actually happened. But it grew too repetitive and boring so I sped it up but quite a bit.**

**3. I meant to explain how Snape was getting a bit of karma. He made fun of Sirius for being practically trapped in Grimmauld Place and being unable to leave, and then the exact same thing happening to Snape. By the time I was ready to fit this in, it didn't exactly go anywhere, so I just scrapped it.**

**Once again, THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed! I LOVE YOU ALL!**

**-quackers102-  
**


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